Inside Looking out 2: Firestorm
by Fabius Maximus
Summary: Kim is getting used to being free... but others are making their own plans... Chapter 15: talking in whispers.
1. Chapter 1

Inside Looking out 2: Firestorm.

* * *

"It hurts." The 5 year old said, sniffing, holding out the Terrible Injury for inspection and proper commiseration.

"Mm… let me see." Kim said, and looked at the finger with the (barely visible) scratch on it. "Well, that looks like we'll need to put a band aid on it. How about that?" She asked, and got an emphatic nod. Kim patted him and gave him a hug, and then led him to the desk where she got the band aid and with all the solemnity of a pilgrim at the shrine put it on his finger. Tommy leaped up and squealed in delight.

"Yay!" he paused, and then seriously, "Thank you Missus Possible." Kim ruffled his hair.

"It's okay—why don't you go out and play now—it's a little while until nap time."

"OK!" he said, running out and waving his hand in the air, so that everyone else could see it. Kim smiled at that, and then looked over to the other room, where the younger kids (including Shego's two youngest), were asleep.

_Did you think you would be doing this ten years ago? _Kim thought. The answer came back. _Did you think you would be doing this a three months ago?_

She supposed in a Hollywood webmovie, she and Ron would be married now, or she would be back in the mansion… or maybe running from an evil plot to frame her. Kim laughed softly.

Unfortunately, Hollywood didn't account for real life. She loved Ron. He loved her. They proved that quite often…but he was still too big for her to live with him all the time. Her place was uncertain, she still wasn't clear on what she would end up being…and living back with Ron would be surrendering too much of her… independence? Ron understood, and hadn't suggested she move back in permanently, although she had spent time at the mansion, and he had spent time at her apartment…

But always asking if he could come in. He understood how important it was to her to have this place, and hadn't questioned why from the first pay check on, she made certain to pay for the apartment out of the money she made.

_And I really didn't expect to be making money doing…this._ Kim looked at herself in the reflection of the window. Wearing overalls, with a hair band pulling her hair back. She wasn't wearing any of the good clothes from Club Banana…for a simple reason. Nanite infused fabric might work for a dress up parade, it might keep a soldier alive on the battlefield, definding against chemical and nuclear weapons….

But put it up against a room full of toddlers and young children, and it wouldn't make it to the first washing—and you washed a lot. Kids had an amazing ability to gather dirt…or create it where there wasn't any, to say nothing of their other sources of dirty clothes. 'teacher, I gotsa upset tummy' had been her introduction to _that_ truth.

And yet…she liked it. It wasn't what she had imagined, but watching the children run around, make their first friends, make their first _discoveries_ was thrilling in and of itself. These children were seeing the world for the first time, and the innocence they brought to it, even when the occassinally made her want to pull her hair out by the roots, was worth it.

"Hey Kim, how are you doing?" Another aide came walking by, her own classes in tow.

"Fine Tanya—how is the brood treating you today?" The slim Latina laughed, "Well since today they didn't have all that heavy cake…no sugar high."

"Or what came after." Kim said, grinning, they'd _both_ stayed late cleaning that aftermath up.

"Or what came after." She said, and waved her kids out to the playground where they charged with a series of war whoops and shrieks that would have made Jeb Stuart proud.

"So is your boy toy picking you up today?" Kim smiled at that.

"You mean Ron?"

"Well, unless you have another boy toy…" Tanya said.

"Ron's enough for me…"

"Well if he ever gets too much, you can always share him." Tanya said, elbowing her lightly. Kim laughed.

"I'll think about it." She shrugged, "But no, today something came up at Bueno Nacho and he's having to fix it in person. I'm going to spend time with the parents—we're going out to eat at a nice place and then see a movie together."

"Oh, parents night?"

"Well, help keep brother from going nuts night. Cindi had her kid…and Tim's learning that karmic payback can be…" Kim censored the comment, "Poetically just."

"Oh I bet—they were telling stories about those two in my high school."

"You went to high school in New York."

"And it wasn't far enough away according to some of our teachers." The two laughed and Kim whistled to bring the kids back in. Now that they had worked out their energy, it was time for a quick water break, some activities and a brief nap to prepare them for going home with their parents.

* * *

Ron Stoppable was not pleased. Yori was standing behind and slightly to the right and he was frowning at the men in front of him. Well, men and one woman. Dr. Director's hair was more gray than brown now, but she still had her trademark eyepatch. Next to her were the heads of the CIA and FBI and Colonel Samuel Verne —and whatever his official rank, he was by no means the least important person in the room. The air had the slightly stale feeling that spoke of multiple filters and the sound in the room was deadened by anti-eavesdropping systems, high tech and other wise. Outside of the airlock style door there were soldiers who had a higher security clearance then some generals, carefully chosen for a total lack of interest in who was in this room—beyond insuring that their names were on a special list, of course.

"You faked a food poisoning incident for _this?_" Ron asked, quietly.

"Faked nothing, my boy." Samuel said, "Those people who ate at the Washington Bueno Nacho are sick, no doubt about it. I'd look into your cheese quality control, if I were you. Gives you a perfectly good reason to be here and out of sight. Everyone figures you're with your lawyers trying to spin this."

"Thank you." Ron said as he forced the growl down. "Now why was this nessecary—we have secure links."

"We do." The head of the FBI said, "but there's some concern they may be compromised at your end."

"Who?"

"Kim Possible." Ron indulged in a brief, and horrifyingly violent fantasy involving the speaker and numerous house hold appliances.

Then he spoke, very quietly, and controlled. "If you have accusations about her, I suggest you bring them up to her parole officer. And I suggest that you be, very, _very_ certain of your facts, because her lawyers will be very certain of theirs."

"She's a civilian." The FBI director said, "She's so civilianized now, it's not even funny, and yet she has free run of your house, _including_ the secure parts. I understand she has been using the simulator in your dojo."

"For basic training only." Yori said, "her skills are beyond what she can find at the local health club."

"And in any case, Kim's not entered into the biometric read outs for the secure data base or the communication systems." Ron said, "She hasn't asked to be. So if you are here for the purposes of casting insults at someone who isn't even here to defend herself, this conversation is over."

"That's not the case, Ronald." Dr. Director said, "I for one do not share my companions fear."

"Nor do I." The CIA director said. "Jack drop it already. What put her in prison was the mother of all FUBARS and you know it. Everything she knew that was classified is ten years out of date, and unless she's training kiddy ninjas, it's pretty plain that she's not interested in the old career. If she does, will talk about it then."

"No, her parole officer will talk about it then."

"Oh, cut the crap." Samuel said. "We've dealt with a lot more dirty angels then her, and a lot worse. You know what the plan was, so why don't you tell him."

"What plan?" Ron asked.

"The one that had Kim getting a quiet pardon, or work release program offer about two years after going in." Samuel said. "We didn't tell you because we didn't want anyone sounding like it had been a done deal going in. There was quite the bidding war going on—CIA had the lead because she was a national, but MI-5 and the Japanese were in the running." Ron stared.

Ten years.

_Ten years_. She was in there, and now they tell me…

"Why…why not." He said, in a toneless voice. "What made you change your mind?"

"When she went in, she had endangered thousands, millions of lives." Samuel said. "But 'endangered' and 'cost' are two different words, and most Americans were comfortable in the knowledge that 9/11 had been a one time thing, and nobody had actually died of bio's or even another major attack."

"Then the June attacks." Yori said.

"Yeah. Then suddenly we had people watching death trucks driving down their street, with loud speakers telling you to 'bring out the dead' like some bad science fiction movie." Samuel said soberly.

"It changed the political equation, Ron." Dr. Director said. "Morale was at an all time low and suddenly people were referring to her, seriously as the traitor who had almost brought this very same thing upon the US two years before. Releasing her would have been disastrous, possibly even dangerous for her."

"Fine." Ron said, "I'm very happy it's played out well for you." He glared at the director of the FBI. "But I have my own sources and allies in Washington, and you report to some of them. If anyone starts going out of their way to make trouble for Kim, I will make trouble for you. Count on it."

"Is that a threat?" The FBI director asked.

"No. More like a statement." Ron said, "Like: The sun rises in the morning. Water's wet. That sort of thing." The director glared daggers at Ron, while the CIA director carefully studied the ceiling, and Dr. Director checked some papers. Samuel looked at the two of them with a broad Cheshire like grin on his face.

Then it went away.

"Sorry Ron. That wasn't all we called you in for. Not even the most serious. We may have… a problem. A big one."

TBC.


	2. Chapter 2

Warnings:

* * *

"What problem." Ron said. Verne didn't use the term "problem" lightly. The last time Ron had heard it was when he was dangling by one hand from a helicopter skid.

"About two months ago, our electronic intercept departments started noting a drop off in terrorist communications." Dr. Director said, and frowned. "I'm as much for afree press as the next person, but why, oh _why_ did they have to keep trumpeting how dumb you were to keep information on a laptop, or send it in the clear."

Ron Nodded. "I saw that too—but wasn't it just assumed that they were trying to use messengers and such?" He shrugged, "I think that we were all expecting that. I mean, if college students could figure it out…"

"Girls' still in therapy. Think you over did it just a _little_ bit, Ron?" Dr. Director responded.

"No."

"In any case, yes, we were prepared for that, but not this." Dr. Director touched a stud and one of the holo emitters came up as the lights dimmed. Revealed in it was a small box, with a USB port and cable.

"What is it?" Ron asked. _Not an external hard drive._ There were computers in the NSA that ate that sort of encryption for breakfast.

"A very special toy—a biological computer." Dr. Director said. "Remember synthodrones?"

"yes." Ron said, "Let me guess—the cranial matter of the drone?"

"To some extent—impossible to read with electronic technology, _and_ keyed to an individuals DNA." She paused, "Living DNA. We already tried DNA from a corpse on this particular model."

"What happened?"

"It shut down—'died'." Verne said. "We're all feeling rather idiotic—granted, for most pruposes, inorganic computers are a _lot_ faster… but this one gives them the ability to have truly secure communications—as near as we can tell, each one of these units has millions of 'one time only' codes, never used again."

"So by the time you've cracked it…"

"They've moved on to another one, yeah." Verne said, brushing his close cropped gray hair back. "This is pretty serious." Ron nodded. Terrorist groups, however skilled they were had had a long history of underestimating just how effective modern signal interception and decoding could be… and even then it was a never ending struggle.

He sighed. He didn't want to say this, but best to get it out into the open so they could discard it. "Drew Lipsky came up with synthodrones…"

"He's clean, you don't have to worry there." Dr. Director said. "So don't worry about getting bit in the ass by that one." There was a carefully disguised frown from the FBI director. Ron didn't even think of cracking a smile. The battle to get Dr. Drakken allowed to play with things more complex then an erector set had been epic, and he was certain that Drew had been checked out on this long before Ron had been called. Still, it was heartening that they had done it, and come to the same conclusions Ron had.

"Have you called him in?" Ron continued.

"No." The Director of the CIA said, the African American frowning. "In fact, you almost didn't get called in for this. Ron, this is going to be a stone cold bitch—NSA has been looking at it, but they don't think there _is_ a way to break this encryption, at least not fast enough to do us any good. The _last_ thing we need is any sort of leak."

"Yeah." Ron said, "A good way to panic people, _and_ clue in every bad guy on the planet." He paused, and thought. "Wait a minute, if these things are biological, then they can't be programmed- so…"

"So they have to be made." Samuel agreed. "And probably made at a central location, because our eggheads think that you have to have physical contact between the units to synchronize their 'codes' as it were." He shrugged, "Now, the good news is that it looks like this is a fair bit more complex then most tech, at least right now, so the central unit is probably not something that can easily be duplicated—and if we can get a hold of it… well that gives us time to come up with a counter."

"So where do I come in?"

"There is of course the possibility that it may be in a foreign country." Dr. Director said carefully.

"Oh. Now I see." Ron said. "regretting cutting yourselves off."

"That was nessecary, and in any case, it did improve our security." Dr. Director said, but her voice wasn't quite as certain.

"Oh really—at the cost of dropping those nations in the soup, and depriving them of aid….and pissing them off royally." Ron said. "Why the sensitivity now? You've not been unwilling to go in and stomp all over soverignity before."

"That's…" The director of the CIA looked at his associates, "Being seen as a bit of a mistake."

"About time." Ron said. "Fine, I'll be your stalking horse. When should I be ready?"

"We don't know, but We'd like you to stick close to your equipment—this may be on a moments notice sort of thing."

"Support?"

"Covert only."

"Fine." Ron sighed.

The Meeting over, Ron was heading back to the underground garage where he would get into his limo, drive to the Bueno Nacho and now have a press conference in which he promised to take measures to insure that the food poisoning would never occur again.

"They had to do that, couldn't do something nice…"

"Like it?" Samuel's voice came from behind him, "Given your reputation for loving food and quality dining, it was a natural. It has to be an accident."

"Yeah, and who's going to take the fall for it." Ron grumbled, "unsolved isn't going to look good at all."

"Well, when you look into your reports, it seems that one of your suppliers has been shorting the IRS money—and cutting back on his safety measures." Samuel grinned, "So we make a cover story and help out our friends in the government at the same time."

"You're a regular fairy godmother." Ron said, not mollified.

"I am…and you need to take better control of your temper." Samuel said, "Threatening a cabinet level official isn't smart, especially when you consider the firepower the FBI can bring to bear."

"Then he needs to stop making hints about Kim."

"Isn't having a more active sex life supposed to make you _calmer?_" Samuel asked, in the tone that made it plain he was enjoying tweaking Ron. "of course, given the rumors about you and Yori and Kim, it might be leading to exhaustion."

"Oh God, not you." Ron said. He blushed furiously at the stories claiming that he was accumulating a harem.

"Does make for interesting reading, so many of those reporters missed their callings in bad romance writing." Samuel said. "I can think of many women who would accept being a trophy wife or girlfriend to a rich man being nothing to tings for him to show off—somehow Yori and Kim's names never come up on that list. Your's never comes up on the list of men who would like women like that." He paused, and continued, "Seriously, how is Kim doing—I get the parole data and the intelligence material, but that doesn't do a lot for the psychology and I don't trust earnest young men who have never been in prison, _or_ in the field to give a good reading."

_Why is he-_

"She's doing good. She got the job at the pre-K, well, it's also daycare now, about 3 months ago. Kim likes it. It makes her happy."

"And her excercises?" Ron paused at that.

"I'm not our FBI friend." Samuel said, "If you were considering getting her back into the field, you'd be pushing things with her parole officer long before now."

"Good. She's…" Ron paused, "She's pretty low compared to what she once was—memory is still there, but not the reflexes." HE shrugged, "And she doesn't have as much time as she used to—her job takes time."

"Pretty low." Samuel said, smiling. "Interesting that the Data Dump _I_ got from it shows that her abilities are within 2 percent of what is considered highly qualified for Force Recon Marines."

"Like I said, Pretty low compared to what she once was." Ron said. "She's doing better than I thought she would, but Samuel, Kim used to be able to do the equivalent of an Olympic marathon, follow it up with a fight, escape, ride back and then go the next day at school. She can't do that now."

"Maybe…." Samuel said, "Let's run her through some of _my_ little games, if you don't mind."

"y- okay Samuel, what is going on." Ron asked, in a tone that brooked no joking.

"You suggested, three months ago, that I might consider putting her into an SOG." He nodded at Ron, "Fine, I'm telling you that I want to verify her abilities for myself."

"She may not…want to anymore." Ron said, "She's happy… I don't-" He bit off the words. "I'll tell her. I'll let her decide if she wants to run through your torture course."

"Torture course? Me? I'm shocked. " Ron laughed at that, but looked at Samuel closely.

Samuel Verne was a friend, Ron accepted that. But there were few more ruthless men in the United States government. It wasn't enjoyment—Samuel didn't enjoy hurting for it's own sake and wouldn't tolerate it in his people ("sadists make for poor operatives" he'd once said to Ron), but there was nothing, _nothing_ he wouldn't do in the service of the people of the United States.

_Thank God he never wanted to try the other side of the street. _Ron thought. A evil Samuel would be very scary, especially given the fact that he had never, as far as Ron could tell, fallen into the trap of forgetting that the enemy was just as bright as he was.

"Okay, Samuel, I'll let her know once I'm back home. She'll have to clear things with Rabbi Katz if she's leaving the state.

"She won't be—an old friend of yours has a boyfriend who would be perfect for this…"

* * *

"Thanks sis, I mean, really." Kim's brother was trying to glare at her, as Kim looked back at him in sisterly confusion.

"I don't understand Tim… I thought you'd like a family movie about a man getting to know his children… since you have a baby."

_"Village of the Damned?"_ Tim asked.

"Well he is your child." Kim pointed out.

"He has my moderating influence." Jean pointed out. Kim looked at her brothers' wife.

"I heard the story of how you two met." Kim said, "I don't think 'moderating' is a good word."

"Humph. Create the universal solvent and everyone thinks you're a mad scientist." The young woman said. Kim laughed. They could have seen the movie at home—the entire end of the Possible family houses living room could become a holographic emitter…but Kim preferred the theater, with the kids the popcorn and the feeling of people around her. She'd had more than enough of dwelling in lordly isolation.

The food was good, and the Resturaunt advertised that its food was all force grown meat—no animals had been killed in it's production. Kim wondered how long it would be before farming, at least in the US, was a thing of the past.

"It wouldn't be too bad." Her mother commented in answer to her comment. "Most major farms are owned by large businesses, and in any case, a lot of farmland has been badly over used."

"Well, I like it—it lets me eat meat and stick to my principals." Jean said. Kim smiled at that.

"And it eliminates all the guilt when you fall off the vegan wagon and go consume a steak." Tim said to his wife.

"Hush you." She said. The only down side to the evening was when Tara and James waved at them. Kim waved back and called out.

"Hi Tara—how are you doing?" Kim said, and paused, "I haven't seen you for months."

"Blame the pentagon." Tara said, looking depressed. "They got me over to Bragg, I had to pick out an apartment, do without _James…_ And then when it was most inconvenient, they decided I was better served back here."

"Couldn't they have just left you here?"

"Then what would some clerk occupy his time doing?" Tara asked, and looked over. Kim followed her gaze and looked at her mother, who was glaring at Tara before she busied herself (obviously) with her coffee.

"Anyway, Kim—you take care of yourself—I have to get back and…" Tara gave a theatrical sigh, "Get unpacked so tomorrow they can tell me I've been transferred to the Aleutians." Kim waved, slightly distracted, as Tara left.

On the way back to their house, Kim was riding with her parents, since rather than make a special clearance with Rabbi Katz, Kim had just decided to spend the night at her parents home.

"Mom…what was that about." Kim asked. "Tara said something about it, but c'mon…this is _Tara_."

"No, Kimberly." Her mother said in a voice with little affection in it, "That is Major King, of the United States Marine Corps."

"And…" Her mother looked over at her, and then to her father who was concentrating very hard on the road.

"The woman who used me as bait, along with my patients and staff, to kill a large number of people."

"That isn't entirely fair, Andrea." Her father said. "Tara didn't 'set you up' and neither did the corps."

"they certainly didn't avoid it either." Her mother said.

"Um… more info, please?" Kim asked.

"Right—your mother was working with an NGO medical team on the Pakistan/Afghan border. James continued, and Kim heard the echo's of a long ago argument in his voice, "It wasn't safe, but they had a small marine detachement as security. They were attacked, the major was injured, leaving Tara in command."

"What happened?"

"Their higher ups evidently realized that large numbers of attackers were trying to get the medical supplies." James said, "Tara was ordered to hold until relieved and then abandon everything but the people…and to _not_ destroy the medical facilities." He sighed. "She did that, and when your mother wanted to take some of the more vital ones, punched her in the gut and put her on the chopper."

"Well, I mean, Tara was trying to protect you mo-"

"That wasn't the main reason—if the goods had been destroyed, the attackers would have scattered. Her commanders decided to make certain they were concentrated…so they could put other forces in behind them and trap them."

"Oh." Kim said. She could see why her mother would be angry about that, but not why she was _so_ angry. "That must have been…bad." Come to think of it, maybe she could see why mom was angry—that would have used something mom had worked on to kill people…and Andrea Possible didn't kill.

"It got worse Kimberly." Her mother said. She sighed, "the set back was rather widely trumpeted… and because of that, people came to believe that most NGO's were providing aid to military forces. They asked why we would have left all that equipment unless it _was_ a trap from the start. Attacks on those using our services spiked…and three months later the last private aid organization pulled out—it was too dangerous, for us…and for our patients." She looked at Kim, "I keep track of those things, and in the years since then, there have been at least 100,000 deaths due to preventable causes that could have been avoided if we were still there. I understand it's unfair at times, but the fact of the matter is, Tara sees it as a victory against those who would hurt us. I see it as anything but."

"oh." Kim said, "But Tara is…"

"A friend." Her father said. "Your friend, Kimmiecub." He looked over at his wife and Andrea looked back at him before dropping her gaze slightly.

"You're right." She said, "She is your friend, Kim… and I shouldn't let our own history get in our way."

_But you didn't see her, Kimmie. _Her mother remembered waking up in the helicopter as the first attack jets flew in, dropping fuel air explosives and fragmentation bombs, even as the American and Australian combat units moved to cut off any possible escape. Tara hadn't been laughing. She was to serious for that, a captain filling the shoes of her injured superior. But the tight smile on her face had reminded Andrea of some deep sea predator, all hunger and fangs…. Without pity, without remorse. Kim had never seen that side of Tara… and she hoped she never would.

TBC.


	3. Two Conversations

Two Talks

* * *

The next day, Ron was back in Middleton, and heading to the pre-school. The secretary at the front door nodded him back into the class section—Ron was well known. Inside, he paused, as Kim was finishing a story with the kids… involving an improbably large red dog and his little girl owner.

_The same story they told us._ Ron thought, as he looked at the children, their eyes huge. On the other hand, he didn't remember the first telling of the tale being so…animated, as Kim bounced back and forth, changing voices, even putting a hat on some of the kids, and having them take part in the story. That explained the odd explosion of giggles, and laughter. He waited until the story was over, enjoying the sight.

Kim bouncing with all the old energy, Kim _happy._ For the hundredth time, he thought about forgetting to tell her about Samuel's offer, then shook his head. Yori was right. He didn't have that right. Kim was not one of the children on the floor, she was an adult.

"Uncle Ron!" The voice came from behind him and Ron turned around and saw Jessica looking up at him.

"Hey Sprite, you burn the elementary school down?" Ron asked. Shego's oldest folded her arms and looked at him.

"No, and I don't have mom's fire…yet." She amended. "Mom says it will come in when I'm a teenager… she mimicked Shego's voice, 'for my sins.'" She sighed, "Sometimes mom and dad say weird things."

"That's… actually not weird." Ron said, thinking back to Kim's childhood and adding plasma to the mix. Jessica _was_ a lot like Kim… He grinned, "So what are you doing here?"

"Mom got a different work schedule." Jessica said glaring, "I _said _that I could just come home, but she made me come here for…" Now her voice sounded like someone was making her eat slugs, "afternoon _day_ care, like I'm a baby like the twins."

"It's probably not that." Ron said, "She's just afraid that she'll get a call from the police about the circus tent, elephant parade and mariachi band at her house."

"You're weird, Uncle Ron." She paused, "I like weird." Ron grinned, not letting the slight pang at her statement show through.

"So what do they have you doing?"

"Kim." She looked around and dropped her voice, "The other ladies tell me I should call her Miss Possible, but if they're not around she lets me call her Kim." That revelation concluded, she went on, "Says that I'm too old for naps, and too young for sleeping in front of the TV, so she lets me help her in the class room." Ron nodded seriously.

_Well, I never thought I'd see that._ If Kim had had any problem, it had been her love of taking control of every aspect of whatever it was she did. She'd learned.

A few moments later, the story was finished and the kids were heading outside for the last recess of the day. Ron walked over to Kim where she was keeping watch on them outside. Jessica was trying to look mature (as a seven year old could), but occasionally cast longing looks outside.

"Jessica," Kim said, "Could you go out and help keep herd on the others?"

"Sure!" She said, her voice Doppler shifting as she vanished into the playground.

"So how is Tim doing?"

"Surviving." Kim said, "And what about the problem in Washington?"

"We're, um…" Ron didn't want to lie, but Kim _didn't_ have clearance.

"Oh. It was for something else and you can't talk about it." She said, "ok."

"I mean, I could if-"

"Okay."

"That is to s-"

"Ron! Okay, means Okay." Kim said to him. "Were you going to have a torrid affair with the presidents wife?"

"no!"

"Then don't worry." Kim sighed, "I know that you have things that you can't talk about—so did dad, and mom understood." She smiled. "So tell me what you can talk about?" Ron nodded.

"Well first of all, one of my friends, Colonel Verne… well he thinks he could make some room for you running his combat simulations."

"Like what I've been doing?" Ron shook his head.

"Like that times ten, Kim—his nickname when he was running official training exercises? The men called him 'the antichrist'." Ron paused, "And Taggert isn't any soft touch either."

"Tara's BF?" Kim asked, and then winced. She hadn't heard anyone use that phrase since high school.

"Um… you'd better get used to calling him "Captain Taggert" on duty." Ron said, "He and his Australians are spending six months here doing cross training, and Verne seems to think that you might profit from teaming up with them in the big simulator in Lowerton."

"Lowerton?"

"Remember the mall?" Ron asked. Kim thought and nodded.

"Oh, the death mall. Did any store there ever stay in business more than a month?"

"Nope, and so the Defense Department took it over, since it's nice and conveniently located near the space center—it's an urban combat simulator now."

"Oh." Kim said, "But I'd have to be specially cleared."

"Samuel is taking care of that now…" Ron paused, "I hope."

* * *

"So, Rabbi Katz, you see why I'm asking this favor of you." Samuel said, as he and the Rabbi finished up a very nice lunch—Samuel's treat. Not that the Rabbi would be bribable by a good meal, but it might put him in the right…frame of mind.

"Hmmm… you want me to clear Kimberly Ann Possible for unlimited access to the simulators, and the space center, so long as she also has military clearance." The Rabbi said. "For… physical training."

"Yes."

"Involving guns? She's not allowed to have or use any weapon."

"Well no, she isn't, but since there are no real guns, at least in the sense of functional battlefield weapons, used at the training center, that's not a problem." Colonel Verne said, sipping from his coffee, gray eyes looking at the Rabbi.

Rabbi Katz looked back, frowned, and paused.

"You seem to be under some degree of a misunderstanding about my role, Colonel." He paused, "And I must add, quite an interesting Colonel—I was able to find your name, and not much else." The Rabbi smiled, "Now, I could see that as simple security—but the simulator costs _at least_ a million dollars a day to run, and that's for the simplest drills…. I have to wonder if a Colonel could assume such a cost for a civilian who will never be allowed in the military on his own authority, unless he was quite powerful. What exactly are your responsibilities?"

"They are…varied, but I'm not always at liberty to say. You understand."

"Ah, I do, but I think you are not entirely aware of _my_ role."

"Yes?"

"I am Kimberly's parole officer, and today that means more than a watchdog. I'm her advocate, and yes, a person who's opinion will carry weight with the authorities when and if the time comes to reconsider her parole, or consider a commutation of her sentence. She is also someone very close to a close friend of mine."

"Ronald."

"Yes." The Rabbi looked over at a girl, no older than Kim had been when she had gone to prison. "I am certain you have examined her files. I have also seen the video files, especially those from the two hundredth day of her incarceration, when she finally, fully realized that she was not getting out, that this would be her home for possibly as long as 21 years. For a time, there was some fear that she might have to be transferred to a mental institution—the Warden, I might add, was very outspoken about the dangers to her mental health." Rabbi Katz paused and sighed "I won't get into specifics. You either can, or you don't have the right to, and I don't have the right to tell you, but Kimberly had never been in trouble before—not so much as a speeding ticket. From that, she went straight to prison—for a term that was to be longer than she'd been _alive._"

"And?" Samuel asked.

"And she survived. She managed to survive, not go nuts, and with the help of some psychologists at the prison, find some way to cope. She studied math, not because it was easy, but because it was difficult. She told me she'd thought about studying modern events, but it kept reminding her that she was in here, and in any case, regulations didn't permit many of those reference materials." He shrugged, "After that, she didn't bother to get a degree, but she probably also could have one in history and English."

"I was impressed by her drive in prison, and her personality."

"Yes, so was I—given what has happened to her, she has done well, not fallen into bitterness…and is most importantly, _rebuilding her life._" Now Katz looked at Verne and there was little friendship in his eyes. "And I find you coming to me, asking me to key her into training for an activity that she is _absolutely _ forbidden to engage in, Colonel. If she goes out on a real mission and I find out about it, her next stop will _have_ to be supermax, to spend the rest of her term there. Do you think she will survive that? What about all those who she'll leave here?"

"You presume that I am going to put her on a mission—I could just be doing Ron a favor."

"Really. What favor will that be?"

"I will train her and give her a honest rating of her abilities. I'll also show her that this is no longer the world of crazy villains, or silly death traps." He shrugged, "that favor."

"And no ulterior motives. So you would never dream of using her on a mission."

"I didn't say that. If I needed to, to secure this nations safety, I'd not only send her on a mission, I'd send her on a suicide mission."

"And when she came back, would you also back her up? Or would you let me dispose of her, back into supermax." Katz said quietly. "When Drakken and Shego were in a foreign nation, how many times did you or a predecessor send a message to Kimberly, asking her to 'save the world'…yet you never paid them, you never helped them when it counted, and when Kimberly was standing before a judge, you were nowhere to be seen, as were none of your organizations."

"There were…political considerations."

"My consideration is Kimberly's welfare…and for your information, Colonel, my oaths are ultimately to Someone who isn't impressed with your political considerations." Katz continued, "And this time would the same "political considerations" apply"

"No. I don't think they would."

"That's very good Colonel. Because I'll approve this, but I'm also logging the reason why, both on hard copy and computer. Because if Kimberly ever does break her parole because of something you were involved in, I'll remind you that assisting someone to break parole is also a crime—a felony to be exact, and I will guarantee you that I will make your life very, very uncomfortable." Verne didn't say anything for a time, staring into the Rabbi's eyes. Then he leaned back and chuckled.

"I never fail to be surprised." He said, "You run into genuine hard asses in the strangest places."

"Or for the strangest reasons."

"True. Don't worry Rabbi—I can pledge you this. Kim is close to a very good friend, and if, for whatever reason, I ever need to call on her services, they'll either be cleared by people who can change the terms of someone's parole—or I'll be standing in the dock next to her. I have to sometimes order my people to risk their lives, or lose them. It doesn't mean I do so casually, or on a whim."

"Good. Just so long as we understand each other."

* * *

TBC. 


	4. A hot day in Chicago

Training and the story of a hot day in Chicago

* * *

Kim took a deep breath. She'd been running every day since she'd gotten out, as well as using some of the gadgets designed to help people stay in shape—the "resistance suit" took some getting used to—a sheathe of nanofiber that could increase the resistance to the wearers muscles from "running up a small slope" to "going up Mt. Everest with a bag of rocks." Kim was proud about that last—she'd been on the maximum setting for the last several days and was even getting back to her old levels with the dodging and moving, to say nothing of the martial arts. Not having to hold back when fighting synthodrones made for fast learning…as did sparring with Ron.

Although that was odd. She hadn't sparred with Ron much before…. And he certainly hadn't _beaten_ her on a regular basis. Now, even when Kim won it was a near thing… She shook her head, and dodged back barely missing the synthodrone that came after her. Yori was in the control room—that was an ironclad rule, Ron had told her, that someone was _always_ present during a simulation.

"_why didn't they make more?" Kim asked. _

"_Don't ask." Ron groaned from the bed beside her. "Or rather, do ask, if you want to hear a lot of people start cursing… in fact ask about 'project Nautilus'" _

"_Bad?"_

"_How does a semi-sentient sub with it's own synthodrone construction facilities and half of a battleships firepower going rogue sound."_

"_Bad."_

"_Yap. Put Yori off sushi for a year…"_

"Eep!" She said, as the synthodrone she was sparring with took advantage of her distraction. The late, unlamented Erik had been a very advanced model…literally one of a kind, and evidently Drakkens later attempts hadn't been that successful.

Which didn't mean that these synthodrones were easy…especially back up by the dojo's supercomputer, which was feeding them information about Kim's martial arts skills via a hyper heuristic learning program. Kim grabbed the drone and flipped over her shoulder, using a move that had knocked it out yesterday and was reminded of _that_. The drone hit the wall and used the surface of the wall to spring back at Kim. She dropped down letting it go over her head, and kicked it in the back of its head, _hard_. Maybe too hard she suddenly realized as the drone went down and stopped moving.

"Simulation terminated. One hostile neutralized. 80 percent probability of death or permanent incapacitation from trauma to the neck vertebrae." The computer continued telling Kim how she had done, aided by holographic displays.

She hadn't meant to "kill" it, Kim thought, but now it was getting too fast for her to take her time. She'd like to say it was because she was slow, but Kim was getting closer to her old norms, she knew and the computer was keeping up.

A clapping sound filled the chamber, and Kim turned and blinked as she saw Tara standing there.

"Tara!" Kim said, as the woman held out a towel to her. "Where's Yori?"

"Upstairs, trying to calm your boyfriend down."

"What happened?"

"The fellow who was feeding him bad cheese is now claiming it was a plot to improve Bueno Nacho's bottom line, so he could bribe you to submit to his lusts."

"_What?_"

"I know. From the complaints of the neighbors, I'd say it would be more like he could afford the hospital bills from you ravishing him…" Tara grinned, "Actually, it's pretty much just a metric ton of paperwork from the Department of Justice and FDA that he's having to wade through."

"Should I go?"

"Kim…" Tara said, "it involves food…and food preparation. Do you really want to get anywhere near that room?"

"Probably not." Kim agreed.

"In any case, I have good news."

"What?"

"Ron's sick of you beating up his robots and so by the official order of Colonel Verne, you have been cleared to be exposed to the gentle caresses of the Lowerton Urban Combat Training Center, under the kindly eye of several people including James." She paused, "You poor fool. Kim, there's time enough to go to a psychologist and get this sad masochist tendency cleared up."

"I've been doing pretty good here." Kim pointed out.

"Maybe." Tara said, "But this is… well different." She didn't elaborate, but turned to the wall and checked the readouts. "Haven't done much weapons, I see."

"I'm not allowed to even be near the real thing, so why work on them?"

"James will fix that." Tara said.

"Tara?"

"Yeah?" Tara said as she followed Kim into the shower room as Kim stripped off the padded practice gear. Cheerleading… followed by a decade in prison had cured her of any body shyness and she stripped and showered down while talking.

"Mom… Mom doesn't like you much."

"Not really, not any more." Tara said, "As much because I don't think we did wrong." She paused, "She told you about the Afghan cock up, right?"

"Cock up?"

"Sorry, James' bad influence on me." She looked over at Kim, "They had it coming."

"I know but…" Kim didn't know how exactly to put it. Tara looked at her a moment as she was toweling off and dressing. Then, as Kim finished, Tara got a small smile on her face.

"You know, but how could cheerleader Tara change into some strange psychobitch who enjoys dropping 2000 lb, bombs on her enemies?"

"Kinda."

"July 2nd, 2010." Tara said, "or for me, about two weeks later, when I was shipped out, wet behind the ears, but an official, newly commissioned Lieutenant in the United States Marine corps." She looked over at Kim, sitting on the bench, "You know pretty much what happened."

"I've read about it."

"I lived it. Smelled it." She shrugged, "Chicago was the worst. They'd already put the anthrax out, of course, and everyone with a sniffle was convinced they were dying… and then, while the _idiots_ in Washington were deciding if it was worth turning off someone's Porn on Demand on the internet, the terrorists hijacked half the news services in the nation and started telling people that it wasn't just Anthrax but smallpox, engineered influenza, you name it." She shook her head. "Panic in a theater is bad enough, this was panic all over the US—people getting sick because they were worried sick and then convincing them, and others that they were contagious." She laughed, "My best friend from basic got killed on a road block on the I15 by Corona, California. Fifteen men under his command and they were ordered to secure a road against what must have been half the Inland Empire trying to go…somewhere. I doubt they knew where."

"Where were you?"

"Chicago." She said, and suddenly Tara's blue eyes were distant. "People were going for the hospitals. Everyone knows that a hospital is where you get cured, right? Never mind that most hospitals are pretty close to capacity on a _good_ day. That day… that week, there were tens of thousands heading for each and every one. Most of them not sick, some sick and some…some I don't know. Maybe being crazy in the head qualifies as sick." She shook her head. "So I had a platoon, with rifles and grenades and machine guns, and I was told to _hold_ that street. There was a hospital down the road and we'd blocked most of the other routes, but what looked like the whole population of Chicago was coming straight for me."

"Couldn't you… block them off?" Kim asked.

"I asked. Was told no. Orders were to leave some ground access routes open—guess the people giving them didn't realize _how_ bad it was getting. I could have told them—on the way to the hospital, some lady, hell she was probably a lawyer from the way she was dressed, ran up besides us and _tossed_ her baby in the truck. Figured we were going to the hospital." Tara gave a soft laugh that didn't make it to her eyes. "So here I am, rifle, body armor, helmet, night vision…with a squalling kid in my lap. Never did find out if they ever managed to get him back to his mom."

"But now… now I don't know what the hell I'm doing—I asked command what level of force we were supposed to use, and I got back: "What ever keeps them out of the hospital, King!" "

Suddenly Kim had a horrible vision.

_She'd said they had machine guns…_

"You didn't…shoot?"

"No. It might have been kinder if I had." Tara said. "But no. There were kids in that crowd, mom's dads, the kind of people who might have been running the ticket booth at a game, or cheering us on. They weren't bad Kim, they were just _scared_. Scared out of their mind, for their families. I couldn't shoot. No matter what. So I…" She paused, "Did the next stupidest thing."

"What?"

"We had CS gas, so I ordered us to suit up and fired it in front of the crowd. Added some smoke, as well." She shrugged. "We had the side streets sealed off, the only place the crowd could go was back." Tara fell silent, and then in an monotone continued, "Stupid bitch."

"What happened?" Kim said softly, reaching out to pat Tara's hand.

"What normally happens." Tara said quietly. "What normally happens when the front hundred, or two hundred, or thousand people can't go forward, and try to turn around…but are in front of 50,000 people who are still pushing forward." She looked at Kim, and for a moment Kim flinched at the emotions boiling inside those blue eyes. "If you fall in a crowd like that, you are dead. I don't care if you're Brick Flag or James…you're dead and you'll come out looking like someone used a jack hammer on every inch of your body. You're only hope is to keep standing, keep moving, don't get crushed up against something that won't move…and adults…adults might do that. A ten year old? A four year old, ripped out of her mothers hands? Not a chance. Not a chance in hell." Tara's foot started tapping out a rapid, irregular rhythm. "We realized something was going wrong. We could hear the screams… hear people being crushed to death or realizing that their children, their wives and husbands were being crushed to death, maybe a foot away. They couldn't do anything, you couldn't bend down, the press of the people was too irresistible. So they kept screaming."

"What happened then?"

"I sent runners along the side streets." Tara said, "There were some cops and we had a tow truck, but we also had some guys who could hot wire a car, and I told them to open the barricades, no matter how they did it. Pull them down, put a car through them, blow them the hell up…nothing would be worse then what was happening. By that time the people wanted to _get away_, but they couldn't while the road was sealed. It took ten minutes to open four streets, and some of the people on the fringes were busting into the buildings, climbing into alleys and up ladders… It could 45 minutes before everyone was clear….everyone who could get clear.

"I- how…" Kim trailed off, but Tara knew what she was asking.

"135 dead. 60 adults, 75 children 18 or younger. Youngest—Sally Martin, six months, Oldest, Tim Perkins, 65." Tara gave Kim a death's head smile. "You want the list? I can recite it from memory for you. Ages, names, place of birth…"

Kim couldn't say anything. Her throat wasn't working. She'd read the history…but…

"And then I get a commendation for it. My 'clear thinking in a deadly situation', or some such bullshit, for opening up the street after I'd caused the disaster in the first place. At least they didn't make it public. I doubt I could have kept my lunch down."

"Were you the onl-" Kim stopped thinking of how stupid that sounded.

"No, there were disasters aplenty that day. On the other side of town another officer decided to try to hold the people back by main force—he didn't want to risk undue casualties."

"What happened?"

"They forced their way into the hospital, ransacked it, and in the chaos set fire to it, two hundred dead. I was at his court martial. He'd disobeyed orders."

"Was he?"

"Yeah, Dishonorably discharged. I had been called as a witness, so I was in the court room when the verdict came down. He thanked the court, apologized again, and told everyone that the responsibility was his, that his men had followed his orders in good faith. Then he went to his quarters, got out of his uniform, and put a bullet into his brain." Tara shook her head, "He wrote a suicide note. He didn't want to humiliate the corps again, so he killed himself in civilian dress."

"I-"

"But see, that's the problem with your mom, Kim." Tara said, "She sees these people as nice, misguided souls—oh, if she meets one in person she'll acknowledge that he's a bad, bad man…but not them as a whole. I know better. Not just here, but everywhere, from Sri Lanka to Afghanistan. If we let them, they'll tear down everything—_everything_, from a girls right to go to school to the idea that you can say what you want without being killed for it. They killed people here, in job lots, people who they didn't know. They are still killing people as well…it's just that we've built a fortress here that's hard for them to get in."

"Ron doesn't like it."

"Ron's right. I'm a marine. Fortresses suck. Better to go out and _kill_ them." Tara said, and suddenly Kim flinched back from her gaze. Then the old Tara was back.

"Sorry about that Kim—but every time I get to start telling the story, I've got to finish it. If I don't, I get… well I don't sleep so well for a few nights. Now, let's introduce you to…" She smiled, "Your trainer, Colonel Verne…or as he was once known, the Antichrist."

* * *

TBC. 


	5. Meeting Teacher

Meeting the Teacher:

* * *

Kim remembered the man standing in the dojo control room from some brief encounters as he was going in and out of Ron's house, but he'd often seemed to be…well unmemorable. Now she realized that had been an act, as Gray eyes looked at her, evaluated her and greeted her, all without a word being said.

"Kimberly Ann Possible" He said. "Ron's convinced me to let you have some training with other real humans, and not the goo bags." He shrugged, "Tara's significant other's team, in fact."

"Um, thank you."

"Don't think me." He said, "I have some ulterior motives for this, but first a question."

'Yes?"

"If you could, would you join a Special Operations Group?" Kim blinked, slightly flustered. She hadn't expected that sort of question so soon and to be honest, had focused on getting better, rather than figuring out what she would do.

"I-"

"Because it is, honestly, the only way you'll get back 'into the game' as some say." Samuel said, "Freelance will never happen, nor will working with Ron." He shrugged, "I'd have to talk like a Dutch Uncle to get you into a SOG, as it is."

"I… I'm honored, but-"

"But you're currently teaching small children, enjoy it, and have been spending most of your time between the school, here and your apartment with occasional visits to your parents, and the Lipsky's. You spent 45 minutes yesterday conversing with Mrs. Lipsky about her children, while watching Jessica playing at the Middleton central park. 5 minutes of the conversation were about the current political administration, largely non-committal on your part, largely disdainful on her part." He paused, "Shall I go on?"

"You…you're not my parole agent and you spied on me?"

"Yap. If you join an SOG you'll have access to information that is highly classified—you'd actually have access higher than Tara King does, and she's a major who works with SOG units. You'll also have access to occasional sealed orders which could let you order a General to jump with the comforting assurance that his only question will be 'how high'." Samuel paused, closed a data screen and looked at her, "But that comes with a price—if you think you are under observation now, you have no idea what might come. Your house would be bugged, continuously. You'd have an approved list of hotels you could stay in, but it would be expected you'd keep most of your transient housing in military bases. You'd be on 30 minute 'hot call', which means that for nine months out of the year you'd be expected to, no matter the time of day, be available in 30 minutes." He shrugged, "I can go on, but understand, an SOG team isn't a job—it's a life."

"I um…"

"Which assumes you pass my tests…not easy."

"You don't sound too optimistic."

"We'll see—but like I said, I do have some other reasons for this."

"What?"

"Do you know that before your incarceration you were rated as the single highest example of physical skill found in a human since we'd kept records?"

"I-no."

"You were, even through Global Justice's crappy record keeping. Like this: 'Avoided laser beams.'"

"Well I did-"

"Something moving at 186,000 miles per second? Think about it." Kim thought, but she honestly…

"I… I dodged them yes, but I was watching the guns."

"Right—they _don't_ traverse at light speed, but you wouldn't know it from those GJ jokers. Poor Betty, no wonder she's going gray."

"I don't…"

"She was tasked with dealing with the crazies, the mad scientists, the borderline psychics and such."

"Psychics?"

"I'll see about getting you some clearance to read the files." Samuel said, "But let's just say GJ came about also because some sorts were able to… bend the laws of probability in subtle or not so subtle ways. Like Drakken with Erik, for example."

"For example." Kim said, feeling her voice cool.

Samuel grinned. "Boy, I wish I had some of those—sentient, nearly invulnerable to blunt trauma, able to be churned out like play-dough… why, wouldn't any army love them?"

"Well…yeah."

"Except for the fact that Drakken made the one, and there were never any others—and believe me, we've tried. Just about every synthodrone you see is being tele operated from a much larger computer—or has very limited 'brains'. Just like some of Drakken's weapons—he can use them, all day. Hand them to a guy standing next to him, no dice. Some of them don't even make sense when you open them up."

"So that was GJ's job?"

"To some extent, but people got worried—if GJ had access to these crazies and some of their technology _could_ be duplicated… Well, that's a lot of power."

"So what did they do?"

"Saddled Betty with the biggest collection of pains in the asses, brilliant but nuts scientists and unworkable programs that I'd ever seen. GJ had a budget to make a base that had transfer tubs running all through Middleton, but only half the training budget of the FBI… Lot's of toys, nobody to use them."

"I haven't seen her since…" Kim paused. Samuel nodded.

"You kinda put her in a bad position—her fair haired wunderkind runs off and gets herself thrown in prison. CIA and FBI were both drooling at the prospect of getting GJ folded into their own orgs."

"Why didn't they?"

"Same reason GJ had so many hindrances put on it. Would _you_ trust the CIA with a guy who could make…ah, Moodulator chips, even if they only worked when _he_ made them?"

"Um… no."

"Smart kid—separation of powers isn't just for the poli-sci guys. Sometimes you don't want to have all the power under one organization."

"oh."

"Now, for today, we'll be running you with Captain Taggert's unit." He paused, "You're not trained with them, so you'll be operating by yourself—for the purposes of the exercise, you're a 'Kit Carson' scout that is attached with the unit."

"Kit Carson?"

"Vietnam? Former VC working with a South Vietnamese or American Unit?" Kim shook her head, baffled. Samuel shook his head and sighed.

"Kids, these days, no sense of history, I'll give you the whole story on the way to the center."

* * *

TBC 


	6. Training Day, part I

Training day, Part I.

* * *

Kim thought that they would go to the training center, but Samuel keyed in the space center.

"Why?"

"That's where the flight transports are—this is a bells and whistles drill—expect to be in the air for one hour, simulating your flight in." He said, "Don't know what Tara has planned, but she had a little gleam in her eye so I hope you don't get airsick."

"I didn't." Kim said, "So what am I doing?"

"You are going to be a traitor to the people/patriot helping America (depending on what papers you read) and your job is to deal with the guards going into a simulated hostage situation. The Australian embassy has been overrun by terrorist forces of the People's republic of Trianglethreatland. Officially they are criminals, unofficially Trianglethreatland hopes they'll kill the embassy staff, and so is doing everything they can to hinder us, which includes not letting us come in. Thus, the SOG is deployed."

"Okay…" Kim said.

"I will be coming along as the over the hill, but too high ranked to tell him to get the hell out, pain in Taggert's ass."

"You…what will you do?"

"I really haven't decided. If the sim is going too well, I may decide to pretend to panic like some deskbound clerk who just realized he can die here." Samuel shrugged, "We did the poodle problem yesterday—got one of Taggert's LT's a black mark."

"Poodle problem?"

"Our simulated ambassadors wife wouldn't leave without fluffy—that was an evacuation sim. He spent five minutes looking for fluffy and found her."

"So why?"

"He should have knocked the simulated bimbo out and gotten out of there. The computers decided that five minutes wasn't enough time for the bad guys to get their acts together…but it was close." For some reason Kim thought that Samuel was telling her something, but he continued, "SOG operations are always very thin margins. You cannot risk failure, via loose or sentimental thinking."

"Okay—so what exactly is happening today?"

"Ah, well you are a member of the terrorist group who has realized the error of her ways. Filled with righteous fury at those who betrayed you, you are now working with us." He smiled, "And it saves us the problem of having to spend a month getting you up to speed enough to even think about having you work as a part of the team, even in simulation."

"What do I do?"

"Get in, shut off the coms, and let our guys in the front gate."

"That's…easy." Kim said.

"Oh, you might not find it as easy as you think." Samuel said.

The rest of the trip passed quickly and then they were at the space center where two sleek stealth VTOL's, supersonic successors to the boxy V-22's that sat at the other end of the tarmac. The black craft looked ominous and predatory on the runway, as flight crews prepped them, loading ordenance and fueling them.

"Bombs" Kim asked in shock, "But we're…"

"Dummy only, but Major King seems to feel that you can never have enough flight crew drill—and they're pretty new, so they really _can_ use the training." He shrugged, "You'll go in on the first one, and then walk ahead to the target."

"OK… but what about, err, briefing."

"This is it. For the purposes of the exercise, you know the basic location—here's your map, but not a lot more." Samuel laughed, "this is a 1CO operation." Looking at her, he explained, "#1 cockup."

"Okay, I can handle it." Kim said, looking at the map and reading it. It was odd how fast she fell back into old habits.

Then they were meeting with Taggert and his crew. Now, Tara's BF looked different, more meanacing in his suit of flexible power assisted armor (FPAA), a large rifle/guided grenade launcher weapon held in one hand, and other equipment dangling off of his frame. Everyone else was equally armored, including a pair of soldiers with 25mm support rifles. Samuel grinned at those.

"They don't have the most up to date equipment like some of our Marine units, but those babies will punch through just about any IFV short of a tank, and they don't err… break down as often as ours." Taggert looked up at that.

"Maybe if you Yanks weren't so equipment crazy… ooh, ooh, new technology, shiny, me want!" He said, and Kim had to keep herself from laughing. Then Taggert was talking to her. "Okay, we drop you off, and you infiltrate through the buildings. I see the Colonel gave you the map."

"Yeah, and nothing else." Taggert shrugged,

"It makes my people work harder, and to be honest, if we were going to run you with a full briefing you'd be training for months and months—this is just a baseline." He continued, "Orders are to enter the building, neutralizing anyone you find on the way, shut down coms and call us."

"Neutralize?"

"Kill. Everyone here is a terrorist, not wearing distinctive uniforms and they have taken civilians hostage. That means they're not covered by the GC or any other convention." Kim gulped at that. Then she was getting on board the first transport. She frowned, as she realized she was the only one not armored in a field suit of armor, just the training suit that she had thrown on in a bathroom, somewhat less advanced then the one she wore in Ron's dojo. Samuel caught her gaze and grinned.

"Kit Carson's don't generally get toys like that. Oh, by the way, We have the same rule here that Ron has in his Dojo, we don't kill you, but we do hurt you… Try to avoid getting shot."

"Are the guns?"

"Nah," Samuel said, "perfect replicas, down to the recoil when you 'fire' them. They're actually more expensive then the real thing." He shrugged and looked at her, "You get no gun because you A. are supposed to be someone infiltrating, and B. the Range Safety officer would have my ass if I let you run around with them before taking the Range Safety Course—they may be simulations, but they can still kill you if you screw around with them."

"It's okay, I don't…. li-" Kim paused, "need guns."

"Ah." Samuel was noncommittal. Kim, looking down at her map, didn't notice the quick glance between Samuel and Taggert. Samuel raised an eyebrow, and Taggert gave a tiny shake of his head. Samuel then held out a knife to her. "Well you do get a knife—take it or you don't go." Kim nodded and held it. She did know how to use a Knife, or did before prison. Like everything else, it was a training knife—the "blade" was of flexible plastic, hard as steel when used against inanimate materials or synthodrones, but contact with a training suit softened it, allowing the suit to log the hit without the danger of injury... but with the danger of bruises.

Meanwhile, Samuel and the other members were activating the armor and pulling up the flexible helmet/hood combo that made them immune to chemical weapons or light armor. Kim, occupied with her own work, didn't realize that she wasn't receiving all the com channels.

_Samuel, are you certain about this?_ Taggert sub vocalized.

_We'll see how it plays out. _Samuel replied.

_Dirty trick. _

_She'll have to learn now—why do you think I'm rushing this? I don't want her to be thinking that this is anything other than the real deal when she's in there, and spending a week studying the systems will focus her on the fact it's a drill. _

_You are a bad, bad man._

Unaware of that, Kim finished checking out her own suit, and watching as the Australians finished securing themselves. The VTOL's were designed so they could launch every individual man into the air, where jetpacks or other personal flight systems would take them the rest of the way. Not having one, Kim _carefully_ checked the tags that showed the system was safed and deactivated.

"This is the Vomit Comet Express," Tara's voice came over the coms, cheerfully ruthless. "For your flying pleasure, we have determined that the air force of Trianglethreatland has refused us access. Unfortunately, we are not allowed to shoot them down, so we will be proceeding NAP of earth to the site I will try not to cause too many of you to puke….unless the computer decides I wasn't flying good enough and we get locked up by our simulated enemies, right now being played by some of my friends in our squadrons F-35's. If they bounce me, I have to buy them dinner so they'll be doing their _very_ best."

"NAP?" Kim asked, "over Middleton?"

"Actually a flight range about 240KM from here," Samuel said, "The locals complain when we send fighters just over their head at Mach. After that part of the exercise, Tara will zip over her as fast as she can, this time at altitude, so she can still shake us around in a simulated landing run."

"OH. What if we get "shot" down?"

"Computers log it, and Tara gets to buy her mates dinner, but we proceed on to our own exercise." Taggert said. "With some loud cussing from the cockpit." Kim shook her head. She still couldn't imagine… well Tara in this light sometimes.

Then she heard the turbines start to spool up, and with a lurch, the aircraft started moving down the runway. Over the intercom, Kim heard Tara's voice, now completely professional.

"Tower, Nighthawk one. We are commencing exercise. Please confirm our airspace is clear. Over."

"Airspace is clear, Nighthawk one. You are cleared to begin the exercise. Over."

"Affirmative, Tower." Tara said, and moments later, they were in the air.

TBC.


	7. Training Day, Part II

Training part II

* * *

"Vomit Comet Express" Wasn't a misnomer, Kim realized. She was soon heartily glad that she hadn't eaten much that morning, and more than a few of the soldiers looked a little green.

Tara wasn't flying down in the "real canyon", no matter how realistic the exercise, the USMC didn't like to risk multi-million dollar aircraft, (or their crews) to the chances of a bird strike. The "Canyon" was actually a virtual canyon, painted on the readouts and visual displays of all the aircraft, while they maneuvered at at least 1000 feet. A "crash' involved buzzing monitors, not fire and death.

But the jinking was real, and Kim closed her eyes against the whipping motion as Tara put the craft through an intricate series of turns flying through the twisting "Canyon".

"Coming up on target." Tara said, her voice businesslike and cliped, "Prepare for disembarkation in Five zero seconds." A pause, "Drones show no hostiles at primary LZ, We'll be on deck for Ten seconds."

"Confirm." Taggert said. Kim gulped, feeling her heart start to pump faster. Next to her, Verne yawned and opened his eyes. He'd evidently been asleep for the last hour. The rest of the soldiers were getting ready, and then with a jar, the aircraft was one the ground, jets screaming. The rear door and side doors fell away and they were moving out, Taggerts men and women setting up a perimeter around the square. Kim had to admit, they had done a good job—it didn't look anything like Lowerton. Then she winced as her back was pelted with stones as the Nighthawk lifted off.

"Nighthawk one, in the air. Will stand by for Close Air Support." Tara's voice came over the coms. "Nighthawk 2 inbound, ETA One Minute, Four Zero seconds."

"Confirm."

"Okay, Kim." Taggert said, "Drones read no hostiles between here and the embassy—go. Those coms need to be out in five minutes and we need to be in."

"Okay. No big." Kim said, falling back into decade old mannerisms as she left the square. Kim headed for the roof, going _over the_ buildings rather than narrow streets. Streets were natural deathtraps, after all, and she didn't have a laser cutter or explosives to go through the buildings—not that she would have. She was supposed to be covert, after all.

There were people (_synthodrones)_ on the street, even donkeys and dogs. In one place a group of small figures played a game of soccer, while someone argued over the price of a car. Kim shook her head. She had to work to remember she was actually in Lowerton. Even the smells were different, redolent with sewage and hot desert air.

Then there was the embassy, with a blood red triangle flag flying over it in place of the Australian Flag. The flag of Trianglethreatland, Kim thought with a chuckle. There weren't any guards on the walls, and her orders were only to kill if she encountered them. Kim didn't want to kill…and she didn't even notice, as the designers had intended that she was no longer thinking of the opposition as Synthodrones.

Over the wall, quietly down into the complex. Moving into the body of the embassy and then….

Kim ducked as a bayonet drove where her shoulder blades had been, as a small figure charged her. She spun around kicking out folding the figure around her leg and bouncing it off the wall. Kim leaped up and moved towards it, knife out, hand shaking slightly. The voice in her head reminding her that this was only a drill was silent now as she prepared to… She blinked.

The figure in front of her was a kid, barely 13 if he was a day old. His mouth opened to shout as he looked for the rifle and her other hand, the one without the knife, snapped out and covered his mouth, slamming him against the wall where he frantically tried to get away. His eyes rolling he whimpered under her hand, and a smell of urine filled the air as a stain spread on his pants.

_I can't-_ Kim blinked and looked down at the blade like it had grown fangs. She slammed the kid down on his stomach, while he whined and struggled.

"Quiet. Don't move." Kim said. If the words weren't understood, the meaning was. He stopped moving, and Kim tied him up and gagged him with strips of cloth from his own clothes. She looked around and found a closet and stuck him in it, and then kept moving to the com office. Most of the other guards seemed to be on the other side, where Tara had deployed some "screamer" drones, devices designed to pretend to be aircraft.

"Okay…" Kim said, looking at the equipment. She deactivated the links to the local government, insuring that they couldn't call out even if they retook the com office, and then for good measure activated the secure destructs on the data files. In a few moments the computers would be expensive blocks of junk.

"I'm in." Kim said over the comlink, "The coms are down, you can come in yourself."

"Did you neutralize the opposition?" Taggert asked. Kim hesitated, then replied. "Everyone I met."

"Good. We're on our way."

* * *

Moments later, there were shots and small explosions from the side where the terrorists had gathered. Taggert's crew moved like lightning, one squad covering the other as they advanced, the heavy rifles punching through walls to get at the terrorists who sheltered behind them. Kim trotted over to the main embassy building as the various soldiers reported that it was secure. Inside, they found the 'hostages' including a woman in pink holding a dog carrier labeled "fluffy". One of Taggert's Lieutenants glared at that, and muttered, "She couldn't have found the bloody dog yesterday."

"Building clear?" Taggert asked.

"Completely." His subordinates replied.

"Good. Nighthawk one, we have a clear LZ and-"

And then an explosion went off in the courtyard, where the nighthawk would have landed. A roar started to rise along with a steadily increasing tempo of shots.

"Contact! Contact! To the rear!" A shout came over the coms. "I make at least two Hundred Plus hostiles!"  
"Oh Hell…" Taggert said, "Nighthawk, abort landing, _Abort landing!_ LZ is hot! Sensors indicate the ground route to the secondary LZ is clear, prepare to extract from there. First squad, Second Squad, escort the hostages to the secondary LZ. Everyone else, set up for a delaying action." Kim ducked as another explosion took out part of the wall and blinked her eyes through the grit and smoke. She could see the enemy now, pointing guns out of windows and buildings, and carrying heavy weapons that could penetrate even the armor they were wearing. And shouting and pointing, was a familiar skinny figure.

"Oh _no…_" Kim breathed.

"Someone you know?" A mild voice said by her side and she turned to see Colonel Verne. Before she could respond, the first rush started, evidently backed up by a mortar unit somewhere. One of the nighthawks screamed over the embassy, tracers and missiles stabbing down into the city, going for the mortar team…

And things got very busy indeed.

* * *

TBC. 


	8. Training: Debrief I

Training: Debrief part I.

* * *

Samuel groaned as he sat down. He wasn't a young man any more, and Kim's… error had changed the parameters of the exercise. Gone where the days when it would be called once the main goal was no longer achievable —now it had simply been converted into a 12 hour gauntlet of fighting the synthodrone "terrorists" in crowded streets, with other crowds of panicked "civilians" running around and complicating things, while they fought their way to the secondary LZ.

Most of the young sprouts were shaking it off and preparing to go to dinner after the debrief, but Samuel had first worn the uniform two years before the Fall of Saigon. It was a credit, and boost to his ego that people still mistook him for being in his fifties, but he wasn't, and infantry combat was a game for youth.

"I must admit." He said to Taggert, "Your debrief to Kim was a work of art. Thirty minutes discussing her origins, parentage, and likely fate, and never once did you fall into vulgarity or repeat yourself. I think if she blushes any more, she'll spontaneously combust."

Taggert grinned, a little sourly, perhaps due to the cheery "DEAD" placard he was using, a bit of (to Verne's mind) sophomoric humor on the part of the Australians. Everyone who had died in the exercise would have to wear one of those cards until 24 hours had passed, whereupon in a ridiculous little ceremony, the lowest ranked "live" soldier would resurrect them.

On the other hand, maybe not so sophomoric. It was outwardly ridiculous, but for the next 24 hours, the unit would be reminded every time they saw a "DEAD" label what a 42 percent KIA rate looked like.

"Well Tara's not overly happy either." Taggert said. Nighthawk one had survived but Nighthawk 2 had been downed by a missile team that had hidden among the alleys. Not Tara's fault, and nothing her squadron could lay claim to, but 50 percent of her "command" hadn't come back.

"Well, not entirely bad." Verne said, "You pulled it out, your subordinates did well after you ah, died, and it's always a good thing to occasionally have a completely unpredictable wrench tossed in the gears."

"Fine." Taggert said, "Now sir, in the spirit of inter service cooperation, _especially_ when one of my superiors gets around to reading the report and asks what the hell was I drinking, would you mind explaining a bit more? You _expected_ it."

"Not only that, I set it up. I was pretty certain something like this would happen when I put my 'dirty trick' together." Verne said. He sighed. "What do you know about Kim."

"What Tara has told me—she saved the world, hell I remember that, then crashed and burned…and evidently is also practicing how to sink drills that were going well."

"And how many clubs was she on?"

"Oh God, Tara would talk about that forever. Every one, and if there weren't any, she'd invent some."

"Right. Hold that thought. Now, Ronald, suggested she join an SOG, and I'll tell you what was in the back of his head, being, like you, a straightforward and honest soul, not at all devious like me."

"Yes?"

"Verne will run Kim thought some exercises, tell her she doesn't have what it takes physically, and then I will have given her a shot, but won't have to risk her life."

"You think that is what he was thinking?"  
"Maybe not consciously, but Kim, and what happened to her, is a huge part of Ron's personality make up."

"So why not?"

"It wouldn't work. What's your evaluation of her physical capability."

"Mmmm…. Superior and excellent across the board. A lot better than I expected."

"Me to, but the fact is, telling her she wasn't physically able to cut it would be useless because first of all, it isn't true, and secondly, she'd just work until she was able to cut it, whereupon we'd have to think about letting her in, or let her realize we had been lying."

"And this has what to do with you pulling strings to get her time on a one million dollar a day simulator and messing up one of my simulation slots?"

"Don't worry, you'll get a replacement date. The 101st is rotating through next month and the CO owes me a favor." Verne paused, "So Kim can do it physically…but mentally, no."

"Oh?"

"Oh yes, you should see her ratings on empathy. High across the board." He chuckled, "A certain Rabbi warned me about Kim's mental state. I should apologize to him, but I know far, _far _ more about Kim and her mental state then he does." He shrugged, "All through her pre-prison days, she helped. Always, not just the big stuff but little stuff. I doubt she was happy unless she was doing something…which probably had as much to do with her problems in prison as anything else. She was suddenly cut off from what made her life worth living." He turned to look at Taggert. "Too high. She literally couldn't, in my professional opinion separate out "enemy I have to kill" and "person I might be able to get along with quite well if I could sit down and chat.""

"So yes, with malice aforethought, I arranged to have her experience what every SOG soldier may experience, once or more than once. You've done it, hell I patterned the encounter on what I _had_ done. You know as well as I do that when the enemy doesn't wear uniforms or adhere to any standards of law, sometimes we cannot take prisoners, even when it means killing someone, in a very ugly, personal way."

"Yah." Taggert said, and the two men said nothing for a few moments.

"And?"

"Now I'll talk to her. I don't think this is what she needs to do. She'd burn up or out…or one day make the same mistake that cost you in this simulation. The hard part is letting her know it, in a way that can convince her."

"So she goes back to the day care center?" Taggert asked. He shrugged, "Mentality aside, her physical skills seem to make that kind of a waste."

"Maybe, maybe not." Verne said, "But James, her 'hero' days ended in disaster, no doubt about that, but before they did, she literally changed the world—and not for the worse. If she does nothing more than that, for the rest of her life, or hell, anything else, she'll still be far ahead of most people in the 'contribute' column."

"World's Changed." Taggert said. Verne paused, and looked over at the younger officer.

_And So have we. _But telling Taggert that wouldn't help, not much. Verne at least had a sixty plus year life to fall back on, and things really _were_ different in his day. Not Taggert. Verne laughed softly.

"What?"

"Maybe that's what she needs to do."

"Sir?"

"Change it again." Taggert looked a little confused.

"The world, captain."

TBC.


	9. Taining: Debrief II

Training: Debrief Part II.

(little action in this part, more to come).

* * *

Kim was sitting in the hallway, still in her training suit. There had been a fair amount of annoyed looks directed her way, especially during the unit debrief. At least Taggert had spoken to her later… Her face started to do a slow burn at the memory. 

"So, Long day,." Colonel Verne said, walking by her. Kim strted to get up out of the chair and Verne waved her down. "I'm an old man, so let's just both sit and talk. Okay, cutting to the chase, you failed—you didn't neutralize the sentry which directly contributed to combat losses later suffered."

"what would you have do-"

"I would have done what I did the first time I met that kid." Samuel said in the same jovial voice but suddenly it didn't reach his eyes. "I slamned him down onto the ground, and held his mouth shut with one hand, and with the other." He made a short sharp gesture, "I slashed his throat open, both vein and artery. It took him less then 15 seconds to go unconscious, maybe 25 to die. He'd already pissed himself—he shit himself when he realized what was happening." The joviality left his voice, "He was fifteen if he was a day, and the last sight he had in this life was looking up at his killer. Today I have grandchildren older than he was."

For a moment Kim couldn't say anything. She just couldn't. Samuel seemed like such a nice-

"This job involves a little split personality." Verne continued, quietly. "Taggert out there would run into a burning building to get a kid. Major King still has nightmares about what happened in 2010—yet they're prepared, yes expected, to do things against the enemies of this nation that would get them locked up as complete sociopaths if they did them on their own time. Our enemies use children Kimberly, which means we kill children." He shrugged, "That's what happens all to often." He looked over at Kimberly. "But would you make that change in yourself? You're _not_ 18, and even so, SOG units have some of the highest instances of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome of any group of people on the planet, and a lot of it has to do with what is done—what sometimes _must_ be done." He laughed shortly, "And while I love this nation, I also understand that sometimes she behaves like a fifty year old whore trying to score some money for her next hit….not all the missions we go on are completely innocent or saving the world." He frowned, "but you give up your right to make those decisions when you- no, that's not entirely right. You do have a right, you can refuse to go, and take what comes, be it discharge or court martial." He paused, "So could you make that change in yourself? You who decided to go to work at a day care…"

Kim had expected to get read the riot act and had been preparing to defend against that, but this… now that she was out of the simulator, she could see it as a simulation, but back then, it had been so real, and the idea of _killing_ someone that young…

"I want to do something." Kim said, "But…but I don't know what." Suddenly her voice turned vicious. "Sometimes I _hate_ this place. Everyone's being watched, everyone's _scared_… it's almost like a prison, and nobody seems to notice!"

"Of course not, it happened one step at a time, and they didn't' have your little time machine, courtesy of the Federal Penitentiary system." Verne laughed, "How do you think _I_ feel sometimes—my generation was the do your own thing and never trust the man generation." He looked at her, "Part of it's unavoidable—technology makes this easy to do and there's never been a technology that hasn't been used, ever since that new fangled thing called "fire". Part of it is that well… people have gotten used to having walls around them…feeling safe. It's a hard thing realizing that people want to kill you, kill your kids."

"But I bet more people have died due to drunk driving…"

"Maybe not, not after 2010…and in any case, that argument doesn't work. More soldiers die from mines and artillery than snipers, yet snipers scare the ever living crap out of soldiers—a good sniper team can stop a regiment in its tracks. Same thing goes for terrorism, with the added bonus that few people here can really understand the mindset that motivates a suicide bomber—it makes them even more frightening- alien."

"So I should go back to work at the day care, and that's it?" Kim asked.

"Maybe. If that's what you want. You've paid your dues to society _and_ you gave a hell of a lot to it before you had your crash and burn." His voice was calm, neither condemnation or support in it. Kim had made her decision and she realized that Verne wasn't going to patronize her by belittling it, _or _giving after the fact backpats. "So first of all, yeah, if you want you could. Second of all…" He paused, "As an SOG soldier you'd be good. If you worked at it you could be great… but you would never be "Team Possible" You'd be under orders at all time and you wouldn't have the option of interpreting those orders to suit your desire. If you want to work independently, there may be other jobs for you."

"Like what?"

"Not certain, but if you don't like the way this nation is going, then your path doesn't end in the military. We don't make political policy in the service. That's not our job, and believe someone who has been in nations where the military _does_ make those decisions, it never works out well."

"Right… I'm gonna become president."

"Not without a pardon, no, but there are a lot of ways to change things."

"And what would you do?" Kim asked. Samuel shook his head.

"I won't say. I might prejudge you in the wrong direction—but lets just say that before you can make a decision, you'll need a _lot_ of information." Kim's face had gone back to its normal, rather pale coloration, as she completely forgot about Taggert's lecture. The woman started thinking, hard. Samuel waited a moment then got up and nodded to her.

"Well, I'm off to a hot shower and bed. I'm not like these young sparks.."

"M? Oh, Okay!" Kim said, "I'm sorry… I'll tell Ron what happened."

"Thank you much, Ms. Possible…" He said, strolling off. Before he had turned the corner, Kim had completely forgotten about him.

* * *

Ron was nervous. Kim was at the mansion and that made him happy that she was waiting for him. On the other hand, today had been the simulation and he didn't want to find out that her next stop was Fort Bragg for SOG training. It was late, and he let himself in. After all day spent fixing the problem Samuel's little "diversion" had created, he hoped that Kim… 

…well he didn't know what he hoped right now. He opened the door to the living room/office and found Kim sitting at the computer desk, the printer slot spitting out bound books.

"Hey Kimbo." Ron said, and kissed her.

"mm." Kim said, distracted looking at the readout as yet another book dropped into the bin next to her. Ron raised his eyebrows, and picked the copy up, still slightly warm.

_Pulling up the Ladder: The end of mass immigration to America, 2010-2014. _

The other books were in the same vein, Ron realized as he picked a few others up.

_Privacy and Security in the Post 2010 world._

_The Politics of Paranoia and the New American Consensus. _

None of them were popular books—they were all college level books, Ron realized, and then looked at Kim and saw that she had the same look on her face she'd had cramming for exams while they were dodging arrows and spears in the Amazon.

"I'm not going to have as much time as I did Ron…" Kim said in a distracted voice.

"You…joined the SOG?" Ron asked, dreading the answer.

"No. I bombed." Kim said, but without any annoyance. Ron's eyebrows climbed for the ceiling and he looked at Kim covertly, trying to see any signs of synthodronedom. "But I enrolled at Middleton College. Night classes."

"For the school?" Ron asked.

"No. Poli sci and some other stuff." Kim shrugged, "I don't need to go for a degree in anything so I can pick what I…need."

"Need?"

"I need to know more about what's going on." Kim paused, "So I can try and change it." Looked over at Ron, and gave him a tired smile. "I talked with Colonel Verne… and thought about the other stuff I've seen."

"And?"

"This nation is sick." Kim said, suddenly with certainty. "And it needs to be fixed…but it's not like… back when we were Team Possible. There's nobody I can hit and send to jail to fix it… it's bigger than that."

"It is that." Ron said, "So what are you going to do?"

"Learn about the problem." Kim said, And then with certainty. "And fix it."

* * *

Later that night, Ron walked into the armory. There were the weapons on the wall, and in its special place, the Lotus Blade. Ron touched it, feeling the blade stir in response to his finger. 

_And Fix it._ Half the people on the planet would wonder just how she was so full of herself…

But on the other hand, Kim had never been unwilling to take a challenge…well with the exception of public singing, Ron thought with a smile. But she'd always been willing to push the envelope, to make her dads slogan, "**Anything's possible for** **a Possible" **more than a joke saying—turn it into a simple statement of truth. Even when she'd gone to prison, she'd done that. She'd said she would help him, she had…and she hadn't counted cost, nor so far as he could tell, regretted it. He had done enough regretting for both of them.

And now with that same determined cast to her mouth he'd remembered back in high school, she'd casually mentioned that she was about to do the same thing, to set herself against the tides of history and all the world… And fix it.

_That's not the job for Kim, it's a job for prophet. _Ron could imagine what some people would say about an Ex con with such an arrogant cause…

…but come to think of it, _Moses_ had been an ex con… at least as far as the Egyptians were concerned. He smiled at the image of Kim in some Old Testament Robe…

And then lost his smile. Moses had never been allowed to _Enter_ the promised land, after all.

But Kim had been right and he was wrong. Whatever happened, Kim was owed his support. He'd give her it. No matter what. Maybe he wasn't the same as he had been back ten years ago.

But some things never changed, and one of those was that he'd never abandon Kim. No matter what.

When he came back up, Kim as asleep in their bed. The windows were open, as usual. Kim couldn't sleep in a room unless the windows were at least cracked and the doors were unlocked. Ten years worth of living in a single locked room would do that. But he lay on the side of the bed and looked at her face.

For the first time since she'd come out it was… completely at peace. Not lost, not hopeless, not worried.

At peace. A decision made. Lead, follow or get out of the way.

So be it. On one side, all the trends of the last 10 years. On the other, a single Ex-Con named Kim Possible.

"Wouldn't be the first time the long shot bet won." Ron said to her softly, putting his hand on her cheek fingers lightly brushing her skin.. "Just the biggest bet you ever made."

_Maybe it's time to try for the impossible again. So be it. I'm in. _

TBC.


	10. Chapter 10

Living

* * *

Over the next several months, Kim continued working, and took her night classes. It was odd in a way—having to be home for her curfew when other students (mostly younger, in her first classes), were out to go partying. Not all, since more than a few professionals were taking classes.

Kim hadn't studied political science in prison—such topical books were harder to get and she hadn't considered that she would be changing much when and if she got out. On the other hand, the long years of studying literature and science (mathematics mostly) had prepared her well for the discipline it took to progress in her studies. Kim started out something of a curiosity, but soon found herself being called on by the professors, especially when they wanted a point cleared up for the rest of the class. Kim also found herself asked to teach two night classes of undergrads in math—her main focus of study in prison.

"You'll have to take some other classes, to get your official Master's." one professor told her when offering her the deal, "But that article in the _Journal of Applied Mathematics_ was well written… especially since you did it without any computer assistance." He smiled, "In fact, if you want to take a few more classes and beat that article into a thesis, we may be able to work on a doctorate."

Kim shrugged. "Well I had the time." She said smiling. _Actually about six months to do it. _Then there had been the question of getting permission to publish it, and Kim had agreed to forgo payment for it. It was odd—she didn't really _like_ mathematics, but she'd picked it to keep herself sane, and she was now_ very _ good at it.

Good at a lot of things she'd never considered. Certainly no children (or undergrads) were crying when they saw her coming. Prison had taught her the virtues of patience, if nothing else.

"I understand." The Chair of the math department said, "Ah, Ms. Possible, there is one thing you should consider."

"Yes?"

"This school would hire you based on your professional qualifications—we wouldn't consider your ah, legal difficulties."

"Oh."_You mean my felony conviction._

"I'll work these classes." Kim said, and paused, "But, well for now at least, I like working with the children at the pre-K…"

"I understand, and in any case right now since you're helping with the night classes, there's no need to make a final choice." He said. "Good night, Ms. Possible."

The classes themselves were odd. After she made it plain that the class was about _math_ and not her former world saving exploits, prison tales or anything else, she found herself enjoying them. The ki-students, she thought, were bright as the college was competitive and quickly adapted to her. If they seemed young to her, well most of them were 18 or 19…and there was also the fact that none of them had ever spent ten years effectively alone.

Mornings Kim jogged and worked out in the Dojo, then the pre-k, then afternoons grading and studying for her own classes, then the classes themselves and finally a late night snuggle (quite often more) with Ron either at his home or her apartment. The weekends she and Ron tried to save for themselves, with a movie or other outside activity. Granted Ron had a theater sized TV…but Kim had gotten over her worries about large crowds, and now she wanted to be among them, to be with people. She'd had enough aloneness, no matter how luxurious the surroundings.

At one meeting with Rabbi Katz, that came up.

"So Kimberly, I hear you've been teaching, jogging, working out in the Dojo, and were even asked to teach a self defense course."

"I declined." Kim said, her hands in her lap. She hadn't been able to shake a few behaviors, and right now, Rabbi Katz was wearing his official hat. "I didn't think it would be well…smart."

"Well it's not on any outright forbidden list, but you might be right." Katz said, "some might argue you were looking for trouble."

"I don't want that." Kim said.

"No, I know you don't…. Kimberly, a few months ago, when you were being vetted for the training, a Colonel Verne spoke to me." Katz leaned back, "This _isn't_ official and you don't have to tell me, but what happened. You've radically changed your behavior since then, and honestly not in the way I feared."

"Feared?"

"Yes, I was afraid I was going to be notified that you were now with the SOG and my services were no longer needed."

"Um… that didn't happen."

"I know. Why, if you don't mind."

Kim paused, and then told Katz. Katz leaned back and listened to her story, about how the drill had gone so disastrously wrong.

_Verne you are…. Very sneaky. _Kimberly had always been very empathic towards others and the one thing that would do more to convince her to move into other paths then anything else was something ugly—like being presented the choice between wrecking a mission and killing someone who was helpless. Katz was certain that there were other ways to neutralize the prisoner, but Verne hadn't provided them for a reason—because the lesson was that at times you had to kill. At times you had to kill innocent (or at least as innocent as you were yourself) blood.

Of course, Katz thought, there was no guarantee that Verne didn't want Kim for some other purpose. He had spent some time learning as much as he could about Verne, and his conclusion was that "Colonel" Samuel Verne was very, very, important in the more shadowy side of the United States government. Quite likely, as important as more than a few cabinet level officers. A man like that, no matter how much he might like Ron, probably had better things to do then babysit someone he thought was just going to spend the rest of her life helping preschoolers.

He filed that for future reference. He hadn't been kidding to the good Colonel, that he was Kimberly's advocate as much as her watcher.

"What do you think?"

"I think it's a symptom." Kim said quietly, forgetting about her hands which started to move more animatedly. "Mom always talked about the people who got bruises covered them up…and then found out they had cancer."

"People have tried to kill us."

"People, some of them, will _always_ try to kill us." Kim said. "You know that, Rabbi." She paused, "But too many people I've talked to think _everyone_ is out to kill us, that you have the US, Europe, Japan, and a few other nations—and beyond them are tides of people who dream of nothing but killing Americans."

"And?"

"And they're wrong—Ron doesn't worry about it when he's out there, and you couldn't find a central casting actor who was more "rich American" then he is." Kim paused, "When people are poor, or they can't eat, it's easy to get them on board. 'Do this, and you'll be fed,' or 'do this and you'll be respected'. There was one man in Supermax with me… he's dead now, he was executed…" Kim paused, "The seventh year I was in."

"Unjustly?" Kim stopped at the question then shook her head.

"No. He was in a gang, and they decided he should show another gang what happened when they were disrespected. He killed a 22 year old woman, and her kid." Kim sighed, "If you believe in the death penalty at all, he deserved it."

"But?"

"But what did he have? His father had abused him, his mother was gone... the only source of respect was that gang. It was father mother and nation to him. I know, people get out of similar situations without becoming criminals, but that's not the way it should be, stacking the deck against people before they even get out of the gate." Kim frowned, "Hate comes easy if you're poor, and don't have any hope."

"Or if you're frightened."

"Or if you're frightened." Kim agreed. "But if they were utterly, dead set against us…" She paused, "Then nothing Ron could do would help—but it does, even when he gets sabotaged by the US or other forces."

"Sabotaged?"

"Not deliberately…" Kim said, "But with so many aid programs pulled, so much of an emphasis on counter terrorism… a lot of places don't_see_ the US like they used to. Now, they don't have any contact with us at all until a regiment of marines or an airstrike takes out some terrorist base…which is usually in the middle of a village where a lot of non-terrorists live. Used to, there was always the fact that whatever they thought about the American _government_ they liked most Americans…but now Americans don't tend to go there anymore."

"But those measures keep us from being attacked."

"In the short term." Kim said, "What about the long term? Remember the Diablo's? Fine, it didn't take long to discover that they didn't work without the signal and it was easy to jam the signal… but what about if someone designs a system that doesn't require it? What about when we get attacked again." Kim paused, realized she was beginning to gesture and then put her hands down in her lap again.

When she spoke, it was quiet. "You're Jewish, Rabbi Katz, tell me truly that you don't think this might not end one day with a US president saying that 'nits make lice', and that the best way to solve the problem is to make all those people who _obviously_ hate us just…not be." Kim blinked then and spoke again quickly, "I'm sorry, Rabbi, that was uncalled for- I."

"Uncalled for? Jews aren't the only ones who have suffered genocide." Katz said, "And I think you may have a point—part of humanity is acknowledging the common ties that bind us—and yet with fewer and fewer people traveling abroad, those ties between us and our fellows are fraying… yet on the other hand, some would say the alternative is worse—isolation is better than death."

Kim got up rapidly and walked to the door, and opened it slightly, the streetlights shining outside. A car went by, and Kim waited a moment before turning and looking at Rabbi Katz.

"They're wrong. Everyone dies, but not everyone needs to lose their soul and that's what being isolated is. Your soul, your ability to do anything more than exist drains out, hour by hour, and day by day."

"You've done well."

"I'm A Possible, and anything's possibl-" Kim didn't finish the sentence. "Have I? I can't sleep unless a window is open, preferably a door. If a security guard yells at me…" She paused, and put her hands down in front of her, together, and her feet came to a different pose. "Hands down, ready for shackling, feet apart, ready to comply with the orders given." She sighed, "Not to mention I go bone white and want to puke I'm so scared…yesterday at lunch..."

"Ah, yes, Ron spoke to me about that."

Kim reddened. They had been eating when some fellow had come up to her and started asking her how it felt to be treated special. She'd found out later that he'd been someone who had lost a large chunk of his family in the 2010 attacks. Kim hadn't been able to say anything back to him as his rant degenerated into screaming that had everyone looking at them. For a moment, she'd been afraid that Ron was going to do something—he looked briefly murderous, but he'd smoothly dealt with the man until the police had arrived to remove him. Not only hadn't Kim finished her lunch, what part she _had_ eaten had come right back up in the ladies room.

She sighed. "I have nightmares Rabbi."

"Oh?"

"I'll be sleeping with Ron…and then I wake up and I'm back in Supermax, with Marla getting ready to take me out to exercise. I ask where am I and she tells me "supermax" and reminds me I have ten years to go yet, that I never got parole." She bit her lip and didn't tell Katz how that would bring her up out of a sleep into a sweat soaked panic, hitting the lights so she could look around, grabbing Ron if he was with her, or calling him frantically if he wasn't, no matter the time of night. She remembered when she'd been irritated at Ron for calling her at all hours…

"It's never going to end, is it?" Kim finally said.

"No." Katz said, "Like a death in the family or a terrible accident, it may fade, you may gradually stop having nightmares, or deal with them, but what happened to you, whether you think it was worth it-"

"It was."

"-or not, will never simply 'go away'. It's a part of you now."

"Yeah…and I don't understand how people don't realize it—if this nation closes itself off—that's just a bigger version of solitary. "

"What would you do?" Katz asked.

"I don't know." Kim said and then amended, "Not yet. It's a big problem, because all sorts of people know about it, but if you ask ten different professors how to fix it, you'll get…"

"Ten different answers?"

"Try twenty. These are college professors after all." The two laughed. Kim looked at her watch. "Oh hey, Mom wants me back for dinner… I didn't think we'd stay talking this long…"

"By all means, Ms. Possible, I have dined at your parent's home once or twice and your mothers' skills aren't to be missed." Katz said with a smile.

* * *

Kim headed back home, taking a taxi. She didn't really need to drive. The days of needing to go far away on short notice were over, after all.

When she opened the door to her parents home, her mother smiled at her.

"Kimmie, there's someone you should see in the living room…"

"Actually two someone's." James said. Kim blinked, and looked into the room. There was a dark haired woman and a red head and they wee-

"OH MY GOD! MONIQUE!" Kim squealed, rushing forward to hug her friend. Then she looked over, "JOSS!" She said in the same delighted tone, then stopped.

"Kim?"

"Is_everyone_ in the family taller then me now?" Kim said in an aggrieved tone as she realized that Joss might be about an inch taller than her.

"It's the NY food." Monique said and Kim looked over at Joss and noted her jacked had the New York Fire Department insignia on it.

She blinked. "Daddy told me that you had moved out east, but not what you were doing."

"Oh, I've been with the fire department for two years now." Joss said, grinning.

Kim's math skills came to the fore, "But that means you joined when you were…"

"20—I finished college already, 'an I had some ideas to help and they hired me."

"Oh you did?"

"Sure did." Monique said, "You're looking at the NYFD's best robo-wrangler."

Joss reddened, "Well, some-"

"The best, girl." Monique said, "Stands to reason since you help put it together." She grinned, "While I'm stuck in the ER."

"Your letter said you were finishing med school."

"Oh, I've done that a while back." Monique said, "I've been trapped in the ER, and the labs since then, and then more school—that's why I'm here now."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, NYU came up with some new systems and since I trained on them-"

"She's going to be showing us how to get the best performance out of them." Kim's mother said coming into the room. "She comes _very_ highly recommended, from some doctors who have very high standards."

"Not that high—at least not in their fashion sense." Monique said, and everyone laughed.

"So when is Ron showing up?" Kim asked.

"Oh, he'll be here in a bit." Her mother said.

"Ron?" Joss said, and Kim turned back to her, surprised. Joss's voice had cooled, and when Kim saw her face she realized that Joss' eyes were narrowed with displeasure. She looked over to Monique and her friend gave a tiny gesture she remembered from high school.

_We'll Talk about it later…_

TBC.


	11. Dinner party

Dinner Party

* * *

When Ron and Yori made their appearance, Kim squealed as she gave Ron a hug. Yori was more reserved, but Kim caught a sudden flash of tension between her and Joss.

_What is that about? It's not because Ron and Yori were sleeping together, was it?_ If so, Kim resolved to have a serious talk with Joss later. She hoped her cousin wasn't so foolish to think that Ron was supposed to be celibate for ten years…

Then that thought went away as Monique _also_ squealed and gave Ron and then Yori an Enthusiastic hug.

"Haven't been over doing the Bueno Nacho have you?" Monique said when she relinquished Ron. "Good for you, and your cholesterol."

"Hey, we use low C ingredients." Ron protested. Monique raised her eyebrows.

"Friend, 'low C' is pretty relative when you're talking about what you_used_ to use. Say "Thank you doctor Monique.""

"Thank you doctor Monique." Ron said obediently. "So you haven't been eating at my place? I'm hurt."

"She eats there." Joss said, having dropped her tension, "So don't let her fool you."

"Hush you, I eat in moderation."

"Speaking of eating…" Dr. Possible said, a smile on her face, "I have a surprise…" She continued as the group filtered back to the room, where an odd looking meatloaf sat on the table.

"Heartloaf!" She said, _"Surprise_ Monique!" Kim blinked.

Okay, some things were the same. She wanted to hurl.

"Heartloaf? Heart_loaf?" _She asked.

"Oh Kimmie, didn't you know? Monique is going to be teaching the cardiology department how to use the new regenerative cardiac surgical systems."

"Regenerative?" Kim turned to Monique.

"Oh, I was working on heart cultures for transplants during my med school—they like us to do research." She paused, and continued, "Well slave labor since they call it a class."

"Oh, I remember those." Kim's mother said.

"Well, I and Dr. Cho thought to see if instead of culturing the heart outside and transplanting it, we could culture it in the body—lay down a substrate of undifferentiated heart muscle cells and reconstruct the heart in the body." She shrugged, "And synthogoo is _already_ a mass of undifferentiated cells, and so we just had to work on a transfer mechanism for the…" And the conversation quickly moved beyond anyone other than Monique and Dr. Possible. When Monique noticed the glazed expressions, she stopped. "Sorry, sometimes I TBTM".

"TBTM?" Yori asked,

"Talk Braniac Too Much."

"And it worked." Ann said.

"Oh yeah, but it's pricy." Monique said, "I wish we could make it cheaper—as it is, it's only because some people funded it that we're able to get it built at all. Thanks Ron." Kim blinked at that.

Ron grinned crookedly. "Don't thank, me, but I think you're not giving yourself enough credit." He turned to Kim, "Monique forgot to mention that there are about 20 doctors in the entire nation that are qualified on it—and she's one of them." Monique looked embarrassed at the congratulations coming across the table.

"It's new—by this time next year there'll be a hundred doctors." She said.

"Just as long as they don't make a mistake and put a heart loaf in me." Kim said, and after the laughter, further conversation waited until after dinner.

Once they'd retired to the living room, Kim turned to Joss.

"So what's a robo-wrangler?" She asked, "They don't have you ride your cyber horses, do they?"

"Well I have one at home, but only ride him for fun." Joss said, her Midwestern accent merging with a New York accent. "I handle the rescue and disaster relief robotics systems for the NYFD—if a building goes down, or there's a fire, I'm-" She paused, "Or someone else like me, control the robots."

"Don't let her fool you girl." Monique said, "Joss helped design the entire system and the hive system still uses her original design."

"Hive system?"

"We can't risk having a central computer." Joss said, "What if it goes down, or if it can't get through to the drones? Every drone has a computer that takes part of the load—and it all feeds back to me." She shrugged, "I use a VR control and interface set up to provide direction and override any drone that needs my direct control."

"It's a little like the UCAV systems the air-" Ron started, but Joss cut him off.

"It's not like that at _all_." She said, "Mine save lives."

James quickly moved to diffuse the tension. "And you should see all the designs—little snakes for getting into areas that larger units couldn't get into, flyers with thermo imaging systems to see trapped people—Joss, your designs are brilliant!"

"Dad did some of the designs." Joss said, "The hard parts—I made some suggestions, but the hardware side was really his work."

"That's not what my big brother said," James commented with a broad grin.

Later, as the party continued, Joss found herself chatting with Kim's mother—Her mother was interested in the possibility of setting up drones with the equipment that could allow a surgeon to operate remotely and was talking to Joss about it. Kim moved away as Joss started talking about the dangers of feedback loops and radio interference.

"I'd do it if it was possible, Dr. Possible, but right now it'd be pretty dangerous to the patient…. If you dropped out of the net even for a second the on board computer might…" Ron and Yori were chatting with Kim's father, and Kim found herself with Monique.

"You're looking good, Girlfriend." Monique said, "I wish I could have seen you but-"

"Only close family gets visitation rights." Kim said, "It's okay, Monique." She grinned, "But excuse me, _Doctor_."

"You'd better watch the mouth or I'll convince your mom to let me handle your next physical." Monique said, a mock frown on her face, "Remember, I have the tools, and know where to stick them." The two giggled, like they hadn't…

_For a decade or more._ Kim thought.

"So Monique, give me the 411 on, well, ah…" She gestured over to Joss.

"Well, okay…" Monique grinned, "But you'll confuse the younger generation—it's give me the _wiki_ now."

"Oh." Kim said, as the moved over to the deck, looking out on the light sprinkled city.

"Joss…" Monique paused, "Joss was hit really hard by what happened to you."

"But why would that- she's not upset because Ron and Yori were-"

"That? No way, girlfriend. Joss is about the most open minded you'll see. As far as she's concerned, if you're not hurting anyone else, it isn't her business."

"So…."

"Well, a bunch of stuff happened—can't tell you about it, because Joss hasn't told _me_ about it. But before she got out of high school she'd converted and become a Quaker." Kim blinked. The image of the breakfast food icon floated in her head as she looked over at Joss.

"I know what you're thinking Kim…" Monique looked around, and then over to Ron and Yori. "But everyone has been telling you, how we're at war, how we have to do this and that?"

"Yeah."

"Quakers are _pacifists." _ Monique said, "And Joss is a Quaker and she doesn't hide it. She's had some… pretty hard times around. Lots of people equate "pacifist" with "traitor" today."

"And you know this…"

"When Joss came to NY, she stayed with me for a while." Monique paused, "Some problems back home, and Slim figured she might do better in a big city, and besides she needed facilities that he couldn't give her." She shrugged, "And Joss is great at cooking, and since I'm almost as bad as you-"

"Hey!"

"okay,_nobody_ is almost as bad as you, satisfied?"

"Monique!"

"heh, Anyway, I got to know her. Went to a few Quaker meetings too—way different from what I grew up with, but then I'm Baptist."

"But Ron…"

"Goes out and saves the world and ever so often kills people, or puts himself in position where he might _have_ to kill people." Monique said, "I don't know if he ever has, but Joss ain't having none of it." She sighed, "And she's paid for it. There was the time I got to practice my bone setting skills when she got a bit to outspoken near some drunk guys."

"I guess I need to talk to her." Kim said, thinking about how Joss had come to idolize Ron. "Does she hate him?"

"Nah…more like doesn't understand." Monique paused, "Ron doesn't try and pick fights, no worries there, but he's not about to back down, either." She sighed, "And Joss… " She gave a soft laugh, "They like each other, but it's a bit like two icebergs meeting."

"I understand." Kim said. She looked over at Joss talking with her mother, her hands animatedly describing how a tunnel snake could move down to provide oxygen to a trapped individual, and then over at Ron and Yori were laughing at something her father had said.

_Never thought I'd see the day when Joss and Ron avoided each other. _

TBC.


	12. Panic attack

Panic Attack

* * *

After the party, Ron, Kim and Yori headed back to Ron's mansion. Tomorrow was Saturday, and Kim had wanted to spend it with her friends. 

"I'll try to make it." Ron said, "But tomorrow I have to go over a speech to some of my stockholders on how Bueno Nacho still adheres to the highest standards of food preparation… etc, etc."

"I could stand by you." Kim said.

"And?"

"And serve something I whipped up so they would have a comparison."

"mmmm….. 'Mad CEO poisons company, film at 11…'" Ron said, grinning.

"I'm not that bad." Kim said, giving a pout.

"Okay. 'mad CEO _mutates_ company…'" Kim giggled at the joke. Yori shuddered, the gesture not entirely feigned. Once she'd made the mistake of promising Kim she'd taste test one of her attempts before giving it to Ron.

They had dined out that night, although Yori didn't eat much. The next day, they had also thrown out several pans that were completely destroyed.

"And you are…" Ron asked.

"Shopping." Kim said, "Joss and Monique." She paused, not entirely certain of how to handle it, but she didn't know how Yori and Joss would get along… But Yori solved the issue for her.

"I am going to spend the day in." Yori commented. "Next week I must fly to Yamanouchi, and there is much to be done—not the least of which is making certain I am in shape so that Sensei doesn't feel I have been slipping."

"Sensei?"

"Not the one you remember, Kim." Ron said, a flash of regret on his face, "He passed away a few years ago."

"I'm sorry." Kim said, remembering the times she'd met him.

"A fully lived life is never to be regretted, nor is proceeding along the Wheel." Yori said, "But you would remember the current leader—Hirotaka." Kim blinked, remembering a long ago hottie… Then she blushed.

"I see you _do_ remember him…" Yori said, smiling.

* * *

The next day, Kim had breakfast with Ron and Yori, kissed Ron and headed out to where Monique and Joss waited in their rented car. Joss and Monique had both flown in, but as Monique said, "That's what freight trains are for" when Kim asked how much stuff they could take back to New York with them. Kim laughed at the comment and they all took off. Monique was wearing good walking clothes, but obviously hadn't lost her fashion sense, while Joss had a light wind breaker on over her clothes with an FDNY cap perched jauntily on her head. 

This time, they didn't spend much time at the mall.

"Girlfriend, I don't know about you, but those kids make me feel old, and the_fashions_…." Monique commented, shuddering.

"What about Club Banana?"

"That place? That's not club banana, that's a Captain Constellation transporter disaster waiting to happen."

"I thought you liked Zita!"

"I do." Monique said, "But it was only the good I could do mankind by inventing new surgical techniques that could drive me away from my beloved Club Banana… none after me were equal to the challenge." Kim blinked at Monique's theatrical presentation. She even put one hand to her forehead. Kim turned to Joss.

"She does this often?"

"Sometimes."

"And you room with her?"

"New York Rents are crazy." Joss said. "And they wouldn't let me live at the fire station full time." Kim shook her head at that.

"Have you been in Middleton much?" Kim asked.

"I was here last month." Joss said, "There was a Friend's meeting and I was a delegate."

"Friends?"

"Society of Friends," Joss said and then elaborated. "Quakers."

"Oh." Kim said. "So what do you do when you're not on duty as a robo-wrangler?"

"Mostly? Sleep." Joss grinned. "That job is full time and a half."

"She's not kidding, Kim—never thought I'd see someone put in as many hours as I have during my residency." Monique said, "But Joss does."

"It's all the wireless stuff." The younger woman explained. "No matter how many brains we try to put in 'em, they still need to be hooked up to the network."

"why—I mean couldn't you just make each one autonomous?" Kim asked.

"Well…we could, but NY would be able to afford one, and most other places might be able to buy a picture of 'em." Joss said, "part of the reason for them is to go into places too dangerous for firefighters, and they get messed up _a lot_. " She sighed, "Typical trade off- buy the absolute best and don't have enough or buy enough and don't have the absolute best." She shrugged, "But anyway, so I and the rest of the Wranglers have to make certain we have up to _date_ maps of all sources of wireless transmissions and keep them as accurate as possible—it doesn't' solve all the problems, like the interference you get when a building goes up in flame, but we try to avoid dead spots."

"Harder than the Middleton Mall bots?" Kim asked with a slight bite in her voice. Joss evidently chose to ignore the tone.

"Oh you wouldn't believe how hard—those bots only work because the entire mall is wired for them—that's why they can be so cheap."

"Ah," Kim said, and then decided to dive in. "So you and Ron—you used to really idolize him…"

"I still do…sort of." Joss paused, looked over at Kim, then nodded to herself. "But we disagree."

"About the pacifism."

"Yeah." Joss said, "Ron's not bad, you know that, and he'd charge into a burning building in a second, but…"

"Sometimes you have to use violence." Kim said, "Remember me and Ron?"

"Yes." Joss said quietly, "But that's part of the problem, Kim." Her voice roughened and got more of her old accent in it. "Thou shalt not steal…unless you really want it. Thou shalt not kill…unless you have a really good reason and they deserve it." She paused, "When you prepare for something, you're deciding to do it later, no matter what you say. When you bomb to stop a "threat" _you_ become the threat…."

"But if you need to protect yourself." Kim said.

Joss shook her head. "How many of our modern problems come because the 'threat' we needed to protect ourselves from was more of an inconvenience? You go back to Iran with the Shah and we were supporting a man who had thugs that tortured at will." She looked over at Kim, "And when he fell, another madman came to power, but what if we _hadn't_ kept him in power, hadn't helped him at all. Not overthrown him, but just said: we will not? You can say things would have been worse, but the fundamental fact is that _our_ hands would have been clean and we would have shown the rest of the world that we respected the idea that everyone needs to be _free, _even if it's inconvenient to us. She paused, "Think about how much misery we bought getting doing things that "we just had to do" or "were real politik?" We need to show people that the Laws we talk about so much are just that: Laws, and not suggestions we drop when it gets hard."

Kim didn't say anything. She remembered missions where the thanks had taken the form of lush banquets—while people starved outside. She also was dealing with the fact that Joss was no longer a kid with a Kim Possible obsession—but an adult, a firefighter, and someone was ready and willing to defend her point of view, no matter how unpopular it might be.

_Since when did my family turn into radicals?_ Kim wondered. Problem was, she didn't know who the radicals were—the ones who just decided that you needed the protection or people like Joss.

* * *

The rest of the day went quickly, but then towards the end, it happened. They were walking and talking as they wandered back towards Ron's home through a food court frequented by civilians and people from the space center alike, when someone started calling from behind them. 

"bwak-bwak-bwak…" The badly imitated sound of a chicken rose. Kim blinked. She'd never heard that before and turned to see three untidy individuals walking towards them. She looked around, but they were coming towards them.

"We may want to leave." Monique said, "Good thing we had the bags sent back already."

"It's okay, Monique." Joss said, face tight, before she sighed and smoothed out her frown. "It's happened before. They probably saw me at the last meeting here."

"Hey look, it's a laydown." One called, as they got closer, and Kim reassessed them. They were larger than the three women, but fatter and rather poorly dressed. Sloppy, not casual.

"And look! It's the great Kim Possible with her! We'd better be careful…" Another said, while the third grinned at Joss and started making the chicken noises again. Kim felt her face start to heat up. This was _Joss_, her cousin they were bothering.

"I hear when they're not laying down and dying, they like to turn the other cheek." The first one said and raised his hand to… Kim didn't know, slap Joss? Smack her cap off?

Suddenly Kim was moving forward to show him what for when Monique grabbed her and held her back.

"No Kim." Monique hissed.

"But Joss-"

"She won't thank you for helping. Not like that." Monique said, as the man flipped the cap off her head and on to the ground. Joss bent down to get it, but the other two men were faster and they zipped down to grab it… only to have it be plucked out of their hands by someone else. None of the women had noticed the other men who appeared behind them.

For a moment Kim wondered if they'd been suckered, then she looked at the four men, and recognized Taggert. Next to him was a black man she'd remembered seeing at the base in the observers' gallery after her disastrous drill and two of Taggert's subordinates. She'd gotten one of _them_ killed.

Surprisingly, it hadn't been Taggert who had grabbed the cap, but the African American—Kim remembered him now, one of the Marines observing the Australian Special Forces units.

"Ma'am." He said, in a southern drawl, "I believe this is yours. "

"I-Thank you." Then his eyes rotated to the three men, who suddenly looked far softer and smaller then they had a moment before.

"I am Sergeant Major Thomas Collins." He said calmly, "I was showing Captain Taggert and his men around to see more of the United States then the base. I am _not_ happy at the part of the United States you have just shown them." He paused, "I would suggest you apologize."

"To her? She's a _Laydown._" Taggert was looking completely impassive, but his two subordinates were slightly nervous, like someone seeing a family squabble they'd prefer to avoid.

"She is Joss Possible." He said, and Kim blinked,

_How did he know that-_

"And," He continued, "If you bothered to watch the newsfeeds, you would know that she is an FDNY firefighter, and has been decorated for bravery three times. The last time was when she crawled through a pipe because the interference was too severe for remotes to rescue two children who had fallen down and were injured." Kim turned to Joss.

"It wasn't as scary as they made it sound." Joss said, glancing at Kim, her voice tense. "The news always exaggerates."

"That's not how I heard it ma'am." Collins said calmly, before turning back to the three men. "Now, before I call the police, and report that I, and several other _reliable_." He stressed the word, "Witnesses saw you harassing these ladies, I would suggest you apologize." The three tried to look nonchalant but they couldn't meet Collins' eyes, and didn't have much better luck with Taggert, who was looking at them with the fascination of a man seeing a rabbit right before the wolverine got done with it.

"I…um…sorry."

"Good. Now leave. Quickly." Collins said. The three paused, turned, slouched away trying to seem nonchalant, but they were half running before they got to the end of the street.

"Thanks," Monique said.

"It was my pleasure ma'am."

"It was… okay." Joss said, "I've dealt with worse."

"You shouldn't have to deal with it at all, Ma'am." Collin's said, "Never did much like Bullies, on the school ground or off."

"You really heard-" Joss said, "I didn't think it was that widely known. In spite of herself a smile formed on her face, "The department wasn't happy—the first month the system is fully on line, and then it turns to junk and I have to go wiggling down myself."

"Technology breaks—that's why you have people." He shrugged, "But the fact that my niece went to the same school your lost lambs did might have something to do with me hearing about it." He smiled.

Kim wasn't smiling. In fact, she was slowly turning pale.

_They didn't throw the first punch. What was I thinking? What if I had hit them. I could have gone back to prison, I could be on my way now, I could… _and then, suddenly without warning she was _back_ in Prison. She'd screwed up, she was going to spend the next ten years there, and it was her fault and-

"Kim? Kim?" Monique said, looking concerned, then suddenly her and Joss were by her side.

Kim found herself gasping, eyes wide but she couldn't see anything. All she could think about was the fact that she was going _back._

"I didn't… I can't go back to prison, I can't-" She started to hyperventilate, as Monique and Joss looked at each other and suddenly got a different look on their face.

"I need a chair." Monique said, and Collins immediately reached over the low divider where the men had been eating and lifted up a chair putting it down behind Kim. Monique and Joss guided the unseeing Kim to sit in the chair. Taggert gestured and his two men moved away, one behind and one in front of them, to intercept any looky-loos.

Kim could barely feel her hands, they were on pins and needles like they'd gone to sleep and she was getting flashes and blotches in her vision. Joss touched her neck with something that was cold.

"BP and pulse are elevated but within norms." She said.

"Yeah." Monique paused and then spoke in a tone Kim hadn't heard from her before—in fact she'd only generally heard it from mom…

She wasn't going to see mom again. She was going to go to pris-

"Kim—Kim, listen to me Girlfriend." Monique said in that same tone. "You're okay, but you're having an anxiety attack. You're not going to prison. Understand? You're not going to prison." Joss had her hands on Kim's shoulders, while Monique took Kim's hands in hers.

"But I-"

"_Listen to me."_ Monique said, "You're not going to prison." Kim gave a tiny nod, and Monique continued, "I need you to start breathing slower. Okay? You'll pass out otherwise, Take a deep breath, okay?" Kim nodded, "Okay, now hold it and exhale. Good. Take another one—slow, deep breaths so we can get you calmed down." Kim was still trembling. But her shallow, almost panting breaths were getting more normal.

"Doing fine, Kim." Joss said, giving her a reassuring pat.

"Okay." Monique said in that same voice. "Do you want to drink some water?" Kim gave a short nod, and Monique turned to find Collins' had already gotten a glass from the waiter, who had vanished back into the diner.

"Here—just a sip." Kim nodded and took it, and hoped she wouldn't throw up this time. The terror was still there, but now there was humiliation to compete with it.

"I'm sorry-I'm sorry-" She said.

"Don't have to be sorry, Kim, you didn't do anything wrong." Monique said, "Just had a little flashback, I think." She paused, "But we're going to take a cab home to Ron's."

_Alone. I might have never seen Ron again. _Kim shuddered and took a deep shuddering breath.

"I, I yes..I…I need to see Ron…" And now to her horror she started to _cry._ That was just too much as she put her face in her hands as Monique let them go, and put her arms around Kim, letting her hide her face in Monique's shoulder.

"It's okay, Kim. This is normal." Monique said, "Happens to the best of us." A few moments later, a cab had pulled up and Joss helped Kim into it. Monique turned to thank Sergeant Collins, who demurred.

"No need to thank me, Ma'am, I just wish we'd been able to head this off." He paused, and continued, "Ma'am, I don't know Kim Possible personally, but that was a Post Traumatic Stress Disorder reaction pretty damned clearly." He paused, "You might want to convince her to see a counselor if she isn't already or _tell_ him about this."

Monique's estimate of the man went up. He'd made the suggestion without prying or assuming that Monique _was_ Kim's doctor. She nodded. "I'm going to do that, but thanks."

"You best be off now, then." Collins said, and as the door closed and the cab left, sighed.

"Pretty bad." Taggert said.

"Yah."

"I'd ask Tara to help." Taggert paused, "But it'd probably be better if the doctor handles it."

_Besides, Tara is pretty shitty about handling her own PTSD—the way she manages to avoid any shrink who might get too interested._ Taggert didn't say it, of course, Collins was a great guy, but he was also a senior NCO and you didn't say dirt about officers to NCO's—they didn't' like it, because it meant the officers weren't doing their job, just like officers didn't like NCO's who couldn't handle _their_ job.

"So what now?" he asked.

"Now?" Collins said, "We hunt up a cop and go make a report. I didn't say I wouldn't report them _after_ this." He grinned, "And not only that, we can make some friends among the cops."

"How's that?"

"Well, in the US, it's a felony to assault a serving peace officer or emergency worker." His grin got broad, "and they looked pretty assaulting to me, and they can't claim they didn't notice the FDNY cap…" He shrugged, "I doubt the DA would go for it, but a misdemeanor is a different matter, and someone put paint all over the Quaker meeting hall last month." He shrugged, "The building isn't covered by the camera net yet, but think if those three have to choose between discovering a desire to help the police vs. sitting in the dock while an NCO with more hash marks then God tells people how he was shocked, SHOCKED to see their evil deeds…"

"You are a nasty, nasty man, Sergeant." Taggert said. "I think that would be a _perfect_ end to the day…" his smile flickered as he looked in the direction the cab had vanished. "At least someone's day…" He softly said.

TBC.


	13. Evening Conversations

Evening Talks

* * *

Ron had been preparing for the evening, and he had something special in mind. 

Which went away the moment he saw Kim's expression. She didn't even say anything, just flung herself into his arms and held on to him like she was afraid he'd vanish.

"What happened?" He asked Monique and Joss. The African American waved a hand at him.

"Kim had a little panic attack, Ron. You need to let her tell you about it when she's ready." She said, "Joss and I will give you the wiki tomorrow on everything else." With that, Monique and Joss took off.

_Why would they-right, Kim never really dealt well with looking out of control, especially in front of others. _He could _feel _her heart thudding.

"KP?" Ron asked, "Are you okay?"

"Don't let me go. Please, don't let me go." Kim said, starting to sob.

"It's okay, Kim, I have you." Ron said, holding on to her. He walked her over to the couch and sat her down, Kim still clutching at him. He'd find out exactly what happened later. But right now she just needed to be held.

Minutes passed and he felt Kim start to calm down. Her heart slowed up and her trembling started to go away.

"I…I um, had a panic attack, Monique said." Kim told him. She shivered but things were better now that she was with Ron, now that she could be certain that he was here, real and not simply some dream.

"Well it's okay." Ron said, "Don't need to talk about it if you don't want to."

"I have to." Kim said. "I… they were bothering _Joss_, they knocked her cap off."

Ron didn't bother to ask who _they_ were. He knew.

"someone wanted to have some fun with a 'laydown'." He quietly said.

"That's what they- how-"

"It got coined a few years ago when the Quakers had some demonstrations along with other conscientious objectors. " He sighed, "You're a 'laydown' because you'd just lay down and die." Kim pulled her head away, looking at Ron, the tear streaks apparent in the light of the dying day.

"That's stupid- I mean, Joss-"

"It's wrong…but I." Ron sighed, "I think I understand both sides—not those jackasses, they were just looking for some fun." _And maybe I should bother to find out who you were so I can make _certain_ the law lands on you with full weight. _"But…" He trailed off looking at Kim.

"Ron." She said, "This is _Joss_, she's- I mean you think she's wr-" Kim broke off, flustered, "What's wrong about not wanting to kill?"

"Nothing. But there may be something wrong with not being _able_ to Kill." Ron said, then groaned, "This wasn't' what I wanted to be talking about, but Ah hell, Kim, I've got a different perspective on it then her." Kim was calming down now, and her eyes held interest and more than a little tension.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. First of all, Joss has never said it, doesn't even think it, but understand that when people are calling you a laydown, it's easy to respond by calling them murderers. Tara's not a murderer, but it only takes a few loud mouths on _their_ side to convince people that every Quaker or pacifist is… well you get the picture."

"OK." Kim said, "And you were saying."

"Well, Joss is a pacifist, and she will bring up Martin Luther King, and Ghandi." Ron shrugged, "That makes sense…. Except for one thing." Kim waited as Ron marshaled his thoughts before continuing. "I'm a Jew, KP."

"I noticed that."

"Still thinking of the Bar Mitzvah?"

"Yeah."

"Others might as well. Both my grandparents were Jewish." Ron paused, "If we had any kids, one of their parents would be Jewish."

"Well duh." Kim said, "Good enough for me."

"Good enough for the Nazi's as well." Ron quietly commented. "See, MLK and Ghandi both existed among societies where wholesale murder wasn't really accepted—but there were practitioners of nonviolence among the Jews of Europe and it didn't get them anything. Some people you have to fight, and kill, because it's that or you'll be killed, and worse yet, the people you defend will also die."

"And Joss-"

"Doesn't like me that much for what I do." Ron said, "And she'd be in the forefront of disaster relief when we're attacked—make no mistake Kim, I'm not saying she isn't brave, because she _is_ and she'd be the first one to refuse to cooperate, even if she _knew_ it would mean she'd be shot." He clenched his hand, "but I've seen people who would shoot her, who would use machine guns to turn a ditch into an abattoir, _including_ some poor damned terrified kid who is hanging on to his teddy bear for dear life-" His hand unclenched and his voice went back down to it's normal level.

Kim suddenly remembered a teddy bear sitting in a glass case in his office.

_Oh Ron, I'm so sorry._ She thought, putting her hand over his.

"And they'd kill Joss. They'd kill the very thing that lets Joss _be._" Ron said, "So I'll stop them—in my way and yeah, sometimes that may mean killing, just like Tara would."

"And where does that leave Joss?"

"It… it leaves her reminding me that there has to be an ending to the killing some day." Ron said, "That no matter how much I want to, we can't make a Roman ending to it with a desert and call it peace, or worse, start to think the Nazi's were right… and maybe we should use their tools."

"Don't even-" Kim paused, she was going to say _joke about it_. But Ron was deadly serious.

"I know. Rabbi Katz got a little annoyed."

"A Little?"

"It was… a bad time in my life." Ron said softly. "But he reminded me of something that had come up in Bar Mitzvah class, that I try to remember now and then."

"What?"

"Rabbi Hillel the Elder. He was pretty early." Ron paused, "didn't you study this?"

_I stayed away from Judaism. _Kim thought, _Because it reminded me of how far away I was from you. _

"I hadn't quite gotten to it." She said.

"Okay." Ron said, and continued. "He said: 'That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow. That is the whole Torah; the rest is the explanation; go and learn.'" Ron closed his eyes. "It sounds so easy, doesn't it? But it's hard. So damned hard. Some stupid college girl decides that starving half the world is the way she can show everyone how much she's against the man, decides for_them_ who will live and who will die…" His hand clenched, spastically. "And then I take her and break her, terrify her more than she's ever been terrified in her life, because dammit I want her to _hurt_ a tenth as much as she has planned for others…" He took a breath, "And so I do that to a college student who I could break in half without blinking….and then that phrase that Rabbi Katz introduced me to decides to take a little dance though my subconscious and say _hi!_ when I'm justifying myself."

Kim had no idea what he was talking about—what college girl, and this wasn't the time to ask. She put her arms around him and pulled him close.

"If it was just me, maybe I could." Ron said, talking to himself more than Kim now. "Maybe Tara could. But it's never just us, not any more. Killing _is_ hateful. But some of our enemies seem to worship it. They make bioweapons to put in the cities and target schools and burn down medical clinics in their own nations because they don't want their own people to enjoy the fruits of care. Sometimes I wonder if Hillel is wr-"

"Ron." Kim said softly. "Stop." She put her hands over his clenched fists. _I was crying a few minutes ago. How can I say this now? How can I be so calm?_ A quiet voice in her mind seemed to reply._Because this is for Ron, and we're never stronger than when we're helping each other. Never stronger than when we're giving up all our strength to the other, however strange that sounds._ Ron had been able to calm her with his touch. Nothing magical, no mystic power or spells or ancient sorcery.

Just him, and it was her time to return the favor.

She waited until his fists were relaxed, leaning into him, holding him, drinking in his warmth, and his presence.

"Hillel isn't wrong. He's right, and you know it." She said softly. "None of us are perfect, and the things you've seen." She closed her eyes, "I know—even with what you can't tell me, _I know._ I'm not the only one who occasionally has nightmares, after all."

"I need to stop talking in my sleep."

"Maybe. But what makes you so _angry_ proves that you're still following it as closely as you can—because if you didn't find it hateful, if it didn't tear you up, you wouldn't be like this. You'd be able to laugh it off make jokes about it and would never get upset when Joss said something."

"That might be a plus to your folks—they can tell you about some dinners…" Ron said, a half smile on his face.

Kim didn't smile back. "No it wouldn't—because a quiet dinner wouldn't be worth the price, and we'd see it in your eyes every day."

"What?"

"Your soul. What makes you Ron. What makes the person who had to repeat home financial planning twice, get animated and start showering everyone around him with numbers and forecasts when someone says: microloan program, or who pays more than he has to insure that your suppliers pay their workers a living wage."

"I…" Ron started, "I get obsessed some times, like when I tried to run over you-"

"And you're not off the hook for that." Kim said, a small smile on her face, "but I know why you did it." She paused, "Sometimes…I feel so happy that you're staying with me, especially when I feel so broken, like I did today. I used to laugh off laser guns, and death traps…and three men that I could break in half left me crying in the street like some kid."

"You're not broken." Ron said, his voice firm, "And don't say that around your mother or you might find out you're not too big to spank." He paused, "You made a choice. For me. And you paid a price I don't know if I could pay."

"There were a few times I didn't know if I could pay it." Kim said softly. "that place… going back…scares me Ron. More than anything. More than death."

"It scares me…. Being apart from you." Ron said. "That's why…" He paused.

"What?"

_Is this the right time? Maybe I should wait?_ Ron's mind was flip flopping—This wasn't how he planned it out.

But on the other hand. On the other hand, he needed to ask.

"Would you marry me?"

TBC.

The Thesis is raising it's ugly head again, so updates will slow down a bit-- but take a look at Captain Kodaks Visiting Day, which a really, really great take on some of the things Kim and Ron went through while she was in jail. And lest you think I'm shirking, I'm wading through abolitionist poetry of the 1790's...mostly bad poetry.

Very Bad Poetry. Bleh.

Also note that Rabbi Hillel is a real person, who lived from the First Century BCE to the first century CE, and formulated both the Golden Rule (included here) and several other very important philosophies and sayings.


	14. Bedtime revelations

Evening Talk

* * *

Kim blinked at Ron. 

"That's…sudden."

"Yeah…maybe that didn't come out right." Ron said nervously. "I don't mean now… I mean that we'd be engaged and-then maybe get married but" Kim started to giggle. Ron blinked. "What?"

"This is the first time since I've gotten out that I've seen you start to have a Ron Meltdown." She said.

"Yeah." Ron answered, grinning, "But I had to get more control when I-" _When I wasn't with you. And you're right, and I need you Kim._ But Ron didn't say that. He couldn't. This had to be Kim's decision, no guilt trips or "do the right thing" trips.

"You do know it may be a while before we get married, even if I say yes." Kim said, "I'm still finding out who Kim Possible _is_ anymore Ron, and I can't become Kim Stoppable until I know who I am now." She shrugged, "I didn't even realize…that I'd… be so affected by little things."

"They're not little." Ron said, "Kim, you've talked to Shego. What has she told you about being in prison herself."

"Not much. They got paroled right out." Kim said. Ron paused.

"That's not….well that's what happened to Drakken. Not to Shego. She kind of edited things, I see." He paused, "You might want to talk to her about your difficulties—she can help."

"Oh?" Kim paused. "What happened to her Ron."

"I really can't-"

"Ron…."

"I'm sorry Kim, but it's pretty…personal." He sighed. "Okay, just the very brief bits. Shego was put into a ward for the criminally insane."

"What?_Why?_"

"Because they figured that if they drugged her heavily enough she wouldn't be able to use her abilities to escape… and well." Ron stopped, wondering how they'd gone from 'will you marry me,' to this. "It wasn't very good."

_I still don't know why they sent me that video._ He thought. Some anonymous person had sent him the video file, three months after Shego had been incarcerated. Maybe they did it hoping he would do something, or maybe they though he'd enjoy it. Some of the ward attendants had thought it would be amusing to put the helplessly drugged, and partially delusional woman in with the more violent inmates. The clip had been of another woman (paranoid psychotic) taking away Shego's dessert cup, leaving her wailing like a five year old on the floor. The clip of Shego being forced to wear a diaper when another batch of medications had led to a partial loss of bladder and bowel control had also been included, with an audio track of the jokes, overlain on Shego's confused and hysterical pleas for them to stop.

It had been disgusting. Ron had thrown up the first time he'd seen it. He remembered the stories about his Great Grandmother… and he wondered if the anonymous source ha d known about her and banked on the reaction he'd had. That had been the first time he'd left Yamonuchi since he'd come there. Some things you couldn't do remotely. It had also introduced him to the term "cold hatred", the kind of anger and hatred that never went away. Shego had committed crimes, true, but that wasn't punishment-- it was the grown up version of a boy who pulled the wings off of flies, getting jollies from behind the shield of the law. Oh Yes. He and his remembered all about _that._ Ron shook his head as Kim continued.

"They drugged her."

"Yeah. Can't say anything more about this Kim." Ron said. "She'll probably blister my ear off for saying this much, but I think you and her can talk." He shrugged, "But needless to say, when a few birdies whispered in a few ears, a lot of nasty crap came to the surface. Some of her guards are currently inmates in prison—and the Supreme Court ruled that" he paused, searching his memory "'The use of psychotropic drugs, for any reason other than medical necessity, said necessity being arrived at by competent outside medical consultation, constitutes cruel and unusual punishment as set forth in the United States Constitution.' It was a 9-0 slam dunk." He looked over to the office, "The ACLU helped a lot and I give them enough money to keep watch to make certain nothing like that, hopefully happens again. Drakken was helping, that's why he got out on parole...and Shego, well I don't think the government wanted to argue the point-- and maybe get a full reversal. So, probation, then parole, but no more prison time.

"Spanking". Kim said, "I bet Shego was happy."

"She was… yeah, she was." Ron said. Kim would have to learn the rest from Shego. "I wish the case would have applied to you."

"It couldn't have." Kim said absently. "Nobody ever tried to hurt me, or treated me badly—and if you let people out because prison wasn't _nice_…." Ron nodded, hearing her voice the voice of the lawyers he'd retained to find any loophole to get her out.

"I…" Ron paused, "Kim… I could have gotten you out. I could have."

"How, I was in legally-"

"The Lotus Blade. A school of Ninjas… more money then God." He said, "I could have taken you to any one of a dozen nations that would never have extradited you."

"I'm glad you didn't. I'd have hated for you to decide whether to lock me up or wave goodbye when I got on the plane." Kim said softly. "I love you Ron, but if we let 'I love you' in as a defense, how many people would get off? How many criminals are in for years longer because they waved a gun around, even if nobody was hurt? I_ hurt_ people, and the gun _I_ waved around could have killed entire cities." She conformed into his body, pulling herself close. "Would I be given a break because I saved the world? How do we balance that currency? I saved the world three times, that can pay for one murder, or three assaults?" She looked up at him, "It can't work that way. It's bad enough some people can _buy_ off justice, but giving people like me a walk because I'm "better". No. Never." She paused, "And Thank you Ron, Thank you more than anything for never putting that temptation in front of me. I hope I could just go back…. But I don't know if I could." Kim yawned.

"Tired?"

"It's been a hard day…I'll stay here if you don't mind."

"Mind?" He shook his head, "No." He paused, "What about…"

"Yes." Kim said softly, "But it might be a long engagement. I'm serious about that Ron. I'll give you everything I am, everything I can be, in some traditional wedding ceremony, or if you want, some crazy skydiving ceremony." She paused, "But first I have to be certain I know what I'm giving."

Ron bent down and kissed her. "I know." He said softly. "And I'll promise you one thing. I'll never try and run over you again."

"You'll have to promise me two other things." Kim said.

"Oh?"

"That you'll never lose faith." She looked at him. "When dad told me about the 1980's he always talked about the people who said the world was going to end—the Missiles were going to come. Some kids even claimed they didn't need to go to college…. But the missiles never flew, and the walls came down to the sounds of music and partying, not cannonfire." She paused, "Promise me you'll remember that, you'll remember all the times it looked like nothing could save the day… and there was a day after that day anyway." She looked down, "And promise me that you'll remember that, and when I'm on the floor and can't stand, you'll help me get up and keep going on."

"I will." Ron said, and the conversation sparked a memory. He winced as he remembered the Asian girl on the floor, bowels and bladder involuntarily voiding from sheer terror…and for some reason it was overlain on the image of Shego in the mental institution.

_She was going to do something that would kill millions, possibly. It was different._ But the excuse sounded weak even in his ears. Because Kim was looking at him and he could never imagine doing such a thing while those emerald eyes were looking at him. He looked at Kim.

"Okay, and now you promise me something."

"What?" Kim said.

"That when it looks like I'm going to Fall, and fail, you'll be there to hold me."

"Always." She said.

They didn't have sex that night. Kim _was_ tired, and something that Ron never would have even dreamed of in high school, was the fact that laying next to the woman you loved and had just become engaged to, feeling her heart, hearing her slow and regular breath, knowing she was here….

Was as good as the best sex in the world.

_So. Ready to Talk?_ The voice spoke in Ron's head.

_Oh. You._ He replied.

TBC.


	15. Talking in Whispers

Talking in Whispers

* * *

_You sound so happy._

_I really hate it when my delusions come back to haunt me._ Ron muttered silently. _You're as bad as the Lawn Gnome._

_I'll take that as a compliment. Besides, it's your fault I'm here. _Or_ to put it differently, your fault you're listening again. Having second thoughts about that college girl?_

_I had to do it._

_You keep telling yourself that. I'm certain most of your enemies do. _

_Why won't you leave me alone. _Ron "said", glaring at nothing. He didn't want to move because Kim had rolled up against him, asleep. _I'm doing my best._

Stupid conscience. He thought to himself.

_If that's what I am. _

_Oh, we're not going to go there again. I only said what I said because I was half whacked out from sleep depravation. Besides, if that was true, aren't you supposed to show up with a burning bush?_

_In today's world? People'd just complement me on my CGI. _

_She was going to starve millions of people._

_And Shego didn't occasionally unleash the odd plan that could have killed a large number of people? _Ron gritted his teeth, it had been a while since he'd had these conversations. _Perhaps it's because you knew Shego? Had a connection with her…_

_So what if I did? I don't have to cut everyone a break-_

_Beware of that line of reasoning, O Man. _The little voice that Ron had heard on and off again during his entire life (usually when he was about to do something bad, or trying to figure out a way to do something good) sounded firmer. _There is one Power that may judge who deserves mercy and who does not, and it is not you, no matter how much power you have or what Blade you wield. _It paused, _And you know why you're listening again. You keep wondering what Kim would do if she had been there, to hear that girl pleading and crying for her mother. You wonder what would have been in her eyes. _

_Sometimes…_Ron was going to say he had to do it, but the justification stuck in his throat.

_Better. Ask your friend Samuel Verne. You know she is going to get in trouble, don't you. _Involuntarily, Ron looked over at Kim.

_She's one of My favorites—oh, pardon me, your little internal voice's favorites. Someone filled with virtue, who has triumphed over terrible tragedy and not let it mark her, not where it matters. But there will be challenges coming. Terrible challenges that will be greater than anything you, or her have faced in the past. _

"No duh." Ron whispered, and then shut up as Kim sighed in her sleep._She's only planning to try and overturn the last ten years worth of history. _

_There will be more than that. Kimberly is one of the truly righteous people, with the kind of virtue to give her the strength to hold up under the most terrible trials. But she is mortal, like all flesh and like all flesh has limits. _

_So you're saying she'll fail? _Ron frowned, _great, even I distrust her. _

_No. But She will need you. You will need her. You are both far beyond the point where you can stand alone. Remember that. What she asked you, and what you asked her this night you must remember, or many will Fall…not just you._

_Great, wait-what are you-_

_I'm just your conscience, remember? _The voice said, with a chuckle,_And if you're getting faith in your old age, remember that faith goes both ways. Night._

* * *

Ron's stayed still for a few moments. He'd had semi waking dreams like that more than a few times, and on several occasions they'd proven important. Sensei had said nothing like that had been recorded with the blade, but Ron shied away from the _other_ possible explanation. It was just his subconscious. He waited and then got up and softly walked away from the bed, looking back to see Kim, her hair haloing her sleeping features. He made certain the door was open (Kim would wake up in an_instant_ if she thought she had been locked in), and went to the com center down the hall.

"Get Me Colonel Verne." He said, and moments later, Vernes infuriatingly awake voice came up.

"Problems, Ron?"

"Don't you ever sleep?"

"According to the last Blog by the Sons of Liberty, a spook like me doesn't need to sleep—I just have to make certain I have some home soil in my coffin when I retire for the day." He paused, "So how is Kimberly after her little run in?"

"How many people do you have watching her?"

"Not as many as you think, but Joss is still flagged as a security risk and there were cameras in the area."

"Joss?"

"My Boy, you should know how that there are people in high places who worry that religious fanatics might decide that if non-violence doesn't work, bombs might." A pause, "And of course if they did, having someone on the inside in the FDNY would be perfect."

"Joss and I have problems, but that's insulting to her. Very insulting to her." Ron said frostily. Joss and him might not agree, but he'd no more suspect her of harming another person then he would the moon spontaenously turning into green cheese.

"You might ask her, she knows she's under surveiliance since she refused to sign a loyalty oath."

Ron frowned. "She's a _Quaker_ Samuel—they're not about to sign oaths, Loyalty or otherwise. You know that."

"And so do the people who want to make trouble for the Quakers." There was a pause, "Trust me, I don't like this, because it's stupid, it's harassment, and more importantly, it's dragging resources from possibly dangerous situations."

"How about reason #4." Ron said, "The government promised that when we gave them expanded powers, said powers would be used against people who wanted to blow us up, not annoying religious sects." He paused, "In fact…why are you tell-do you want me to be a stalking horse on this? To get it stopped?"

"My boy, I'm simply telling you this so you don't use your formidable skills on some poor snoop who is simply following orders. I would never in my _wildest_ dreams, suggest that you use this information for other purposes, political or other wise."

"_Riiighhhtttt"_ Ron drawled. "I'll talk to Joss about it."

"You do that—If I were to tell you other stuff, I'd suggest that this policy is rather new and controversial and hasn't yet percolated up to the presidential level, and that a certain amount of…salutary publicity might lead to it being stopped and certain individuals being transferred to Greenland. Now, you didn't call me at 3:00AM for this, so what's your problem."

"Fine… The mission to LA. Your evaluation?"

"Technically…a success." Samuel said.

"And otherwise?"

"Son, we're having some problems right now, and I need you, but if I didn't I wouldn't be calling you again. I said, "Scare" not "terrify into a coma."" He paused, "I got the after action from Yori, and you went way beyond the pale."

"Even if she-"

"If half baked ideas were gold, every college student would be a millionaire. They were smart, but had no life experience. Hell I bet the closest she came to being hungry was the diet to get a pound or two off her waist. You could have scared her, dragged her to one of your relief stations, showed her a place where kids crawl because they can't get enough energy to walk. Might have turned an enemy into an ally with that…instead you pretty much broke her." Samuel paused. "This is important, Ron."

"It…won't happen again."

"I hope not. Ronald." Samuels' voice was far more serious then he'd heard it in a long time. "You're a freelancer. No cameras, no chain of command unless you want 'em. That's good, but remember, that means you have to keep hold of your morality. Sometimes we have to kill, but don't make the mistake of thinking that gives you the right to be a judge."

"Our enemies seem to think it does….that they have the right to Judge." Ron said.

Samuel paused for a moment. "That's what makes them our enemies Ron." Then, the humor was back in his voice. "Well, I'll let you get back to your sleeping, or at least I assume she's sleeping, beauty. I have to find my coffin before the sun comes up."

TBC.


End file.
